


Adventures in Swashbuckling

by siobhane



Category: Final Fantasy IX, Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VIII, Final Fantasy X-2, Final Fantasy XII, Final Fantasy XIII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arranged Marriage, Cameos, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Enemies, Ghosts, Hot But Cranky Ship Captains, Light on smut, Mutual Pining, Pirates, Rivalry, Sea Monsters, The Dread Pirate Almasy, Treasure Hunting, it's mostly crack, kraken - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6350947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siobhane/pseuds/siobhane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirate AU, Squinoa. When Rinoa lies her way onto the pirate ship Lionheart in search of adventure, she gets more than she bargained for. There's a handsome, cranky Captain, a rival pirate with whom she has a history, sunken treasure beyond her wildest dreams, sword fights, a pair of bickering ghosts, kitchen mishaps, bounty hunters hot on her trail, a kraken and even a little romance on the high seas. That is, if the Captain doesn't dump her overboard first...</p><p>(AKA, a writing prompt/challenge that got way out of hand)</p><p>Multiple Final Fantasy series character cameos, primary cast FFVIII.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

* * *

1

* * *

Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway was _late_.

This wasn't unusual, as time management was not her forte, but no one would wait for her today if she was tardy. She cursed herself for dallying over what to take and what to leave, and then cursed her father for lingering too long and delaying her escape. If he left when he was supposed to, Rinoa would already be staring back at port from the other side of a bow.

She pushed her way through throngs of peasants and merchants and ignored the reek of the fish market and all the other unpleasant odors that permeated the air. All the forces of evil seemed to conspire against her and delay her even further.

Rinoa could not afford to be late today. If she was, she would miss her only chance to escape her father's oppressive home and the impending doom of mind-numbing domesticity that awaited her if she stayed.

If she stayed, she would shrivel up and die of too much embroidery and boredom. She craved adventure and romance and action, and there was none of that for her here. Her father wanted to see her married to an awful man, and expected her to be a proper young lady in lace gloves and petticoats and to speak only when spoken to.

She had no patience for that sort of thing. Though she had plenty of practice, she hated embroidery. All that gossip over aternoon tea and gossip about who was courting who -it was all just so _boring_.

Even the balls and the suitors grew predictable and tired. Her mind wandered as she danced with men old enough to be her father, and she imagined some handsome, mysterious and dashing man would come and save her from the sameness of her predictable and boring life.

Rinoa wanted to see the world, to experience everything it had to offer, and that would never happen if she stayed here.

There was no handsome, dangerous savior to swoop in to rescue her, and she knew no such man existed. That man was just a figment of her imagination, the sort of hero only found in books.

So Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway decided to rescue herself instead. She would take matters into her own hands, and determine her own fate, independent her father or a husband.

A week ago, the opportunity to escape landed right in her lap. As she wandered along the docks to gaze at the ships, dressed down in a simple wool and linen frock to fit in with the commoners, a woman approached her and asked if she knew anyone with experience as a cook.

Rinoa was wary at first. Though the woman was dressed in silk and bore the posture of a queen, she had the look of someone dangerous. At her hip was a deadly looking whip and a dagger. Beautiful and wealthy or not, this was not a woman Rinoa wished to tangle with.

She introduced herself as First Mate Quistis Trepe of the _Lionheart_ , and she was in search of an experienced cook's assistant for a journey to Centra.

Rinoa lied through her teeth. After all, the _Lionheart_ was a famous pirate ship, and what could be more exciting than that? And how hard could it be?

Luck must have been on her side. Trepe hired her on the now she was on her way, though running very late, and the adventure of a lifetime awaited her on the high seas.

So long as she didn't miss he ride.

She hoisted her bag higher on her shoulder and her steps quickened as the herd thinned. In the distance, the triple masts of the great ship rose above the harbor, all three taller and more prominent than all the others. She smiled at the lack flag depicting a prideful lion head on a cross. The fabric flapped in a crisp wind and announced to all that the infamous _Lionheart_ was at port.

As she made her way down the docks, she tripped on a thick rope in her haste and went sprawling. She landed face down, spread-eagled on the wooden planks with her foot still tangled in the ropes. She hoped no one saw, but the laughter behind her said otherwise.

Carefully, she kicked her entangled foot free, pushed herself to her knees and straightened the skirts of her dress. She pressed a hand to her face, her cheeks warm, and the men behind her laughed harder. She sighed at her clumsiness, but lifted her chin and hitched her bag up over her shoulder. She was not off to a great start so far, but at least she didn't fall into the harbor and lose her belongings.

A dark-haired man watched from the bow of the _Lionheart_ , smirking at her lack of grace. Rinoa frowned back.

Hmm. Well, she would be sure to avoid that one while aboard. A gentleman would come down to make sure she was all right. Then again, she was boarding a pirate ship, so she could not expect chivalry. After all, from all she'd read about Pirates, they were only chivalrous when it served them.

She headed up the gangplank and found herself inside the belly of the ship. She looked around at all the activity going on around her as her with a bit of awe. Everywhere,the crew was doing... _things_. She assumed they were all engaged in tasks required to make a ship sail, though she had no name for half of what she saw, and she edged around them toward the galley, which was located at the front of the ship.

The galley was empty, save a young man with spiky, sandy blonde hair, a healthy tan and a wicked looking tattoo on the left side of his face. He was short, but very muscular and he didn't look friendly. Rinoa bit her lip and wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

"You lost?" he asked and spared her a glance before he returned his attention to the wood stove. He chucked in a few pieces of wood inside and the flames licked up against the grate.

"I'm looking for Zell," she said.

He flashed a sunny grin that made his pretty blue eyes crinkle at the corners. Smiling, he was far less threatening than her initial impression led her to believe. No one with a smile like that could be mean.

"You found him," he said. "What'cha need?"

"I'm Rinoa. First Mate Trepe hired me for the cook's assistant job"

"Perfect timing," Zell said. "Come on in and we'll get started."

Rinoa stepped inside the galley and looked around. The wood stove was on the left, pantries on the right, and a wooden butcher's block of a workspace domiated the middle of the room. Barrels of things were stacked haphazardly here and there. Crates of vegetables sat next to the door. The whole room smelled of wood fire and flour and something earthy.

"You can put your things in that bunk over there," Zell said. He pointed toward the front of the room. "Take the bottom. Top one's mine."

"What?"

He pulled back a dirty muslin curtain to reveal two bunks, one above the other and a crude ladder made of knotted rope. The bottom bunk was neatly made with rough-spun, inexpensive fabric and there were small cubbies on the wall.

"Just put your bag there."

"We're sharing quarters?"

"Of course," Zell said. "Cooks always sleep in the galley. Blank and Cinna are over there."

He pointed to the bunks on the other side. Stupefied, Rinoa dropped her bag onto the thin mattress.

"Word to the wise," Zell said. "Do not play cards with Blank and never drink with Cinna."

Rinoa wiped her sweaty hands on her dress and gazed around the room that would be her home indefinitely.

She thought there would be separate quarters for ladies. Speaking from experience, she knew a woman's reputation could be utterly ruined for less.

Bu this was an adventure and she was no longer a proper lady with a good reputation. She would take things as they were and not complain. Even if it meant sharing bunks with boys.

"All the cooking utensils and pots are here," Zell said and opened a cabinet below the workspace. "The knives are mine, so treat them with respect. I plan menus ahead of time, and all the recipes are in that book over there," he pointed to the counter near the pantry. "We do three meals a day, no snacks, so if you see anyone in here helping themselves besides the Captain or the First Mate, you have my permission to get violent. I recommend a frying pan to the skull. They usually don't come back after that."

Rinoa let out a little laugh, then sobered when she realized he was serious.

"What am I responsible for?" she asked.

"You'll help me with meal preparation, but your main job will be serving the Captain and the First Mate. They dine in their quarters, everyone else eats out there," Zell said hitching a thumb toward the room outside. "Captain and First Mate are served first, then the crew, and then us."

"What do Blank and Cinna do?"

Zell grinned.

"All the stuff I don't wanna do," he said. "Peel potatoes, gut fish, wash dishes, clean up the mess the miscreants leave behind. Stuff like that."

That sounded okay. At least she wouldn't be washing dishes or gutting fish. She could handle being a cook and a serving girl, even if she really didn't know _how_ to cook.

The truth was, Rinoa Heartilly-Caraway never cooked a thing in her life. She wasn't even sure how to boil water and she never needed to know until now. She figured it couldn't be that hard, so long as there were instructions. With a little practice, she'd be fine. Until then, she'd fake it.

A streak of yellow and brown burst into the galley and flung itself into the only chair in the room. Rinoa started as the visitor sighed dramatically and propped her feet up on a vegetable crate. She wore a bright yellow tunic over brown pants tucked into knee-high boots, and her hair was flipped up on the ends.

"Out of my kitchen Seffie," Zell said.

"I'm hiding," the girl said. "From Irvine."

"What now?"

"He's being a big fat stupid-head," she said and stuck out her lip.

"Psh, how is that different from any other day?" Zell asked. "Rinoa this is Selphie. She and Irvine handle munitions, though why in Hyne's name anyone thought letting her anywhere near the explosives is beyond me."

"Because I'm good at blowing stuff up," Selphie said. Her eyes narrowed. "And you know it."

"Don't threaten the cook, Sef," Zell said and pointed his wooden spoon at her. "You might get a _special_ meal, made especially for you."

Selphie rolled her eyes and hopped to her feet to Rinoa over.

"Can I call you Rinny?" Selphie asked.

"Um... I guess?" she said. "My friends call me Rin sometimes."

"You and me are gonna be best friends, Rinny," Selphie said. There was an impish gleam in her eyes. "I can feel it."

The girl was friendly enough but something about her screamed violence and mayhem. Rinoa wasn't sure if that was good thing or a bad thing, but it would be nice to have a female friend on the ship. There didn't seem to be many of them around, Selphie being only the second she knew of, and though the First Mate was polite, but she was not terribly friendly.

Selphie plucked an apple from the crate by the door and opened her mouth to take a bite. Zell turned on her with a glare and whacked her on the hand with his spoon.

"Get out of my kitchen if you know what's good for ya," Zell said. "No snacks!"

"Geez, you're stingy," Selphie said. "Like you're going to miss one little apple."

"Say that again when we're twenty days out and all we have left is rice and turnips and rats," Zell said.

Rinoa cringed. He wasn't serious, was he? Rats? Rats weren't food, they were diseased vermin, and as far as she knew, not edible.

"That stew you made last time wasn't half bad," Selphie said.

"Except for the bones," Zell said.

"It gave it some texture," Selphie said. "And anyway, we're not going to be so far away from a port that we'll have to go without."

"Don't care. No snacks."

Selphie tossed the apple back into the crate. "Oh, by the way. "Cap'n's in a mood."

"Oh, great," Zell said. "Thanks for the heads up."

"Any time," Selphie said with a wave. "Come have a drink with me later, Rinny! I'll tell you which of these boys to watch out for."

"Irvine," Zell fake-coughed.

Selphie scowled and threw a potato at him. It missed and hit the wall and rolled across the floor.

Zell turned on her with a scowl and chased her all the way out of the galley, brandishing his spoon.

When he returned, Zell showed Rinoa his book of recipes, the meal plan, and shared his tricks for making meals go further, which was to add potatoes, turnips or rice to everything.

She tried not to frown as she looked over the ingredients in the recipes. They looked bland, boring, and there wasn't a lot of variety. Most were stews, chowders or soups. Breakfast was boiled oats or hominy, something Rinoa detested.

"Let's get started on the bread," Zell said. "Should have time to whip up a few batches of dough and get 'em proofed before we set sail."

Zell was patient. He talked her through the recipe and only looked a little irritated when she dropped a whole cup of flour on the floor.

"No big deal," he promised. "Just... Be careful. We don't have a lot of room for waste. If we run out, there aren't many ports where we can restock once we get to Centra, so we have to make it last."

"So, Selphie wasn't joking about the rat stew?"

"No, she wasn't joking," Zell said. "But, when you're hungry, it doesn't matter so much what you eat, so long as it's hot and fills your belly."

He reached for the broom. Rinoa took it from him and began to sweep the mess she made.

"I'm sorry about this," she said. "I'm nervous I guess."

"I promise I don't bite," Zell said. "The Captain on the other hand...Well this'll stay between us, okay?"

He tried to take the broom from her, but Rinoa insisted on doing it herself. She made the mess, it was her job to clean it. Besides, maybe she would learn better by watching Zell work instead of jumping in blind. If she could pick up a few things by watching, maybe she could fake it well enough that no one would know she never cooked anything before.

"Topside!" a voice bellowed from the hall. "Crew, Topside, pronto!"

"That's our cue," Zell said. Of the mess Rinoa was still sweeping, he said, "just leave it."

Rinoa followed him up the stairs to the deck, where the entire crew gathered. Rinoa tried not to gawk at all the strange and ostentatious clothing around her, but it was hard not to stare.

Some were dressed in simple and practical clothing, but others wore breeches with fancy top coats and big, funny hats. It all seemed oddly formal to her, but she knew nothing about living on a ship and what she knew of pirates came from books and third-hand gossip.

One man in particular stood out. His hair was a shiny red-blonde and tied back with a black ribbon. On his head was a large hat of purple velvet with large plumes of feathers sticking out one side. Others wore similar hats, but his stood out because of the color and overall size in comparison. He also wore a long coat of burnished gold brocade that fell all the way to his calves and there were copious ruffles at his throat.

_He must be the Captain! Handsome, but a bit of a dandy, isn't he?_

As she took him in, he turned on a charming smile and wiggled his eyebrows at her. She averted her gaze, embarrassed to be caught staring. If he was the Captain, it certainly didn't seem like he was in a mood. Then again, Selphie never specified what _kind_ of mood he might be in.

The crew went silent as the door below the ship's wheel opened and out stepped a man in a long, unadorned black coat, save the silver buttons down the front and at the wrists. Three red belts wrapped around his waist to secure an odd looking sword-revolver weapon Rinoa had never seen before. Under the jacket was a simple white linen shirt open at the collar. A lion pendant on a thick silver chain hung around his neck.

Unlike some of the others, he wore no hat and his wind-blown hair hid his face as he stalked across the deck to stand before the crew with his arms crossed over his chest. Rinoa shivered as though the temperature had dropped twenty degrees.

"That's the Captain," Zell whispered. "Look sharp when he's around. He doesn't like slackers, but he does enjoy throwing them overboard."

Rinoa's posture straightened and she clasped her hands behind her back to keep them still. She was so nervous, she was sure it showed on her face, and she didn't want to seem like she was scared to death or intimidated. Even if she was.

The First Mate touched him lightly on the arm and whispered something in his ear. He gave her a curt nod and looked up, straight into Rinoa's eyes.

Eyes the color of blue steel peered back at her and her heart quickened in her chest.

Up close, he was devastatingly handsome and much, much younger than she imagined any ship Captain would be. He couldn't have been more than a year older than she was.

To her dismay, she realized this was the same man who watched her fall so gracefully on the docks.

Of course she would fall on her face in front of the ship's Captain. That was just her luck. He must think her an uncoordinated dolt.

A deep blush spread over her cheeks as the corner of his mouth hitched up as though he was still amused by her stumble. Indignant, she lifted her chin and stared back until he swept his gaze over the rest of the crew.

"The Dread Pirate Almasy has been spotted East of Centra," he said. "Word has it, he's looking for the same thing we are."

He was rather soft spoken and his voice was not as deep as she imagined it would be, but it was firm and commanding just the same. A voice like that could compel her to do almost anything. It sounded the way fine velvet felt and there was a hint of whiskey in it; a curious contrast to the aura of danger he projected.

"We can not afford to let him find it first," he said. "I want all hands on deck. We need to make waves if we're to catch up with him."

"What happens when we do?" A voice called out.

"Then we engage him," he said, "and make sure he's never a problem again."

"Booyaka!" Selphie shouted, earning her a wry look from the Captain. "KaBOOM!"

Rinoa wondered what they were looking for. She hoped it was treasure, but the prospect of a high seas battle made her insides flutter.

"All crew members to your stations," he ordered. "Quistis, take the helm."

"Aye," Quistis said. "All crew to your stations!"

All around her the crew burst into motion and she shielded her eyes to watch men climb the masts and all the going to and fro. People called out things out to one another, and it was like listening to some new, exotic language. She didn't know what any of it meant, but it was _exciting._ It was better than any daydream she ever had and better than any books she ever read.

When the sails unfurled, Rinoa lost her breath. They rippled and filled out with a snap of fabric as the wind caught, and the ship began to move.

"Jibe!" a voice behind her cried.

"What?" she asked as she turned around -

Only to be smacked in the head by the boom of the mainsail as it caught the wind and careened across the deck. Stars sparked behind her eyes and the world started to spin. A second later, she hit the deck, unconscious.

She awoke some time later, unsure of where she was, but her head was pounding and she could see her pulse in her eyes.

The room was dim, lit only by a candle in a glass holder on the table. There were fine tapestries on the walls, along with maps and charts of the stars. The bed she lay in was wide and plush and smelled of something spicy and masculine.

She sat up and took a look around, only to find the Captain staring back at her from his place at the table across the room.

"How's your head?"

"Hurts," she croaked. "What happened?"

"You didn't have the sense to duck when you were told to."

Rinoa didn't remember being told to duck, but she suspected she did something monumentally stupid. She raised a hand to the lump on the side of her head, winced and let it drop to her lap.

"Where am I?"

"My quarters."

His voice was soft, but his tone was icy and there was something almost predatory in his steely, catlike stare. She half feared he was going to do something untoward to her and a shiver of terror went through her entire body. She was in his room, in his bed. Pirates took what they wanted, didn't they? She swore, if he tried anything, she would stab him with his own revolver-sword thing.

"Can you stand?"

"I think so."

"Then get out and go back to work," he said and turned his attention from her to peer at a map on the table in front of him.

Rinoa scrambled to her feet, grateful that he seemed to have no interest in ravishing her. She all but ran from the room.

Twice now, she fell right on her face in front of him. He must think she was completely incapable of staying vertical.

Staying vertical continued to prove a more difficult task than anticipated as she rushed out onto deck. A strong wind blew her hair into her eyes, and the boat rocked beneath her feet. She took a few wobbly steps toward the stairs and her stomach rolled.

Still, the view was incredible. The ocean around the ship was a vast, deep ultramarine capped in white, and it stretched in all directions to the horizon. There wasn't even a sliver of land in sight.

A fresh, salty spray washed over the deck as the ship cut a path through the waves and Rinoa remembered why she decided to do this.

She was _free_! No more boring suitors or stiff, formal parties. No more overbearing father, no more staring out the window, full of dreams that would never come true.

A giggle bubbled up in her chest and she righted herself, determined to see this through.

Down in the galley, Zell was in the midst of meal preparation. He cast a harried and irritated glance at the two men on the floor peeling potatoes. When he spied Rinoa, he smiled and ushered her into the room.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Never seen anyone go down that hard."

"I'm fine."

"You didn't hear the jibe?"

"What's a jibe?"

"Oh man, you've never been on a ship before, have you?"

Rinoa bit her lip and shook her head.

"Well, that explains a lot," he said and returned to the pot at the stove. "Whenever anyone yells the word _jibe_ , it means you need to duck because the boom's on the move and if you don't get down in time... well, you found out the hard way what happens."

"That would have been a useful piece of information to know beforehand."

"I woulda told you if I'd known you were a virgin."

"What?" she asked. "What does my virtue have to do with it?"

Zell smirked at the pot on the stove and snorted. He reached for an apron at tossed it to her.

"Put that on. We've got work to do."

Cooking was a lot more work than she thought it would be. She burned her hand twice when removing bread from the oven, and she'd nearly chopped her finger off while slicing carrots to put into the mutton stew. She accidentally burned two loaves of bread and dropped a third on the floor. The two burned loaves couldn't be served, but Zell assured her he would find use for them. The dropped loaf, he dusted off and stacked with the others.

Zell wasn't phased by the pace of the work. He bounced around the room and banged on things with spoons when idle. Rinoa couldn't keep up, but she tried, and at least he was friendly. He chatted about the crew and the troubles with the pirate the captain mentioned. Zell described the Dread Pirate Almasy in a deeply unfavorable light, and Rinoa wondered if he was related to another Almasy she met not so long ago.

He also gave her some pointers and things to look out for, all of which would be helpful in the days and weeks to come. She was only now aware of how out of her depth she was, and any little bit of advice was welcome. Her survival aboard this ship would depend on it.

Rinoa was exhausted by the time the meal was ready. She'd never worked this hard in her entire life. While there was something very liberating about real work, she didn't expect to be so tired and nauseous after, either.

Her stomach rolled, and she wasn't sure why. Nerves, maybe, but between the ship swaying under her feet and the frantic pace, her stomach was in revolt.

Zell prepared a tray with large bowl, a tureen full of stew, a loaf of bread and a bottle of red wine and pushed it across the workspace.

"Take this up to the Captain," Zell said. "And make sure you ask him if he requires anything else. Say it just like that. He's an all right guy and he's a great Captain, but he's particular about the way things are done."

"Got it," Rinoa said and lifted the tray. "Be right back."

On unsteady legs, she climbed the ladder. It wasn't easy to balance the tray and ascend at the same time. Her headache and nausea didn't help. She almost dropped the tray twice, but managed to make it to the top without spilling anything.

Outside the door of the Captain's quarters, she hesitated. Was she supposed to knock? She couldn't exactly let go of the tray without causing the contents to slide, so she used her foot to kick the door with her boot.

At that exact same moment, the Captain opened the door, and her foot collided with his shin, not once, but twice.

Rinoa dropped the tray in surprise, and the contents of both tureen and mead bottle spilled all over the Captain.

He glared at her and wiped a bit of mutton off his cheek.

She was done for. He would make her walk the plank for this. So, she did the only thing she could think of to do.

She looked him square in the eye and asked:

"Will you be requiring anything else, sir?"


	2. Chapter 2

The Captain stared back at her, his expression still coldly furious and Rinoa took a step back. She instantly regretted her saucy question but she didn't know if an apology would make it better or worse. He stepped forward, following her back onto the deck. Earlier, she'd gotten the impression of something cat-like in his gaze, and now she saw it in the way he moved. In one smooth motion, he swept her up over his shoulder and stalked toward the railing on the side. Rinoa shrieked and fought his grip, but he only held on tighter.

"Put me down!" she cried. "Put me down right now!"

"I don't think so."

When she realized what he was about to do, she started to fight in earnest. She kicked her feet and screamed, clawed and struggled as he turned his back on the sea and leaned her head and torso out over the water. Salty sea spray misted her face and arms and she felt herself sliding out of his grip. In a desperate panic, she grabbed hold of one of his belts and ordered him to put her down again. Her request went ignored.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't keelhaul you."

"What?" she cried. "What does that mean?"

"Tie you to a rope and throw you overboard."

He couldn't mean that. That was positively barbaric! All she'd done was spill a little food. And maybe fall down a few times. That didn't warrant being dragged behind the ship.

"You shouldn't because it's  _mean_! You meany!"

She punctuated her words with violent slaps and dug her nails into the back of his neck. She would not die like this. Not when her adventure had just begun. It wasn't her fault he'd opened the door without warning, and it wasn't her fault she'd fallen down or had gotten knocked out by the boom. That was just a bit of bad luck. There was no reason to go to such extreme punishment.

"Meany," he repeated tonelessly. "That hurts my feelings."

Rinoa wished she'd taken a moment to learn a few choice pirate insults. Meany didn't have the impact here that it did among her peers back on land.

"Put. Me.  _Down_."

He leaned her further over the railing and Rinoa screamed, grabbing at his coat with her free hand.

"If I go down, I'm taking you with me," she bluffed. "Don't think I won't!"

He loosened his grip on her legs a little more and she used the belts to draw herself back to him. She managed to get a hold of his waist, wrapped both arms around him and held on for dear life. Being upside down was not helping her nausea any, and now all the blood was rushing to her head. It made her feel dizzy and her stomach rolled in fear.

"I'm gonna be sick," she warned. "I won't hesitate to aim for your back."

 _That_ did the trick. He pulled away from the railing and let go of her legs. She fell in an unceremonious heap on the deck, face up, with both arms still tangled around his ankles. Fearing that he wasn't done, she held on and looked up at him for a sign that he'd given up the fight.

"Let go," he said.

"Not until you promise not to -urk- throw me off the boat."

"It's not a boat."

"Whatever! Ship, boat, dinghy, I don't care what you call it, just promise, you're not going to throw me off of it!"

"Let go."

"Promise!"

"Why should I?"

"I can't swim."

"Not my problem."

Rinoa released his legs as a wave of nausea flooded up through her stomach and chest and she pressed her face into her hands. A cold sweat broke out on her skin and she felt light headed. She really _was_ going to be sick.

As he walked away, she shot to her feet and stumbled over to the railing. She vomited over the side and then sank back down in a heap of fabric, feeling cold and shaky. She used the hem of her dress to wipe her mouth and sat there, eyes closed, until her stomach settled and the chill passed.

Once she'd gotten a hold of herself, she got to her feet carefully. She was still nauseous and unsteady and the ship beneath her swayed and rocked. She grabbed hold of a nearby rope to steady herself, only to release it as a man appeared before her out of nowhere. Startled, she yelped and jumped back away from him.

The man's long, dark hair was tied back in a pony tail, and he wore a black, three cornered hat trimmed in gold. His knee length black coat, faded to a charcoal gray by time and salty air, had wide cuffs and tarnished brass buttons. Underneath, he wore a light blue tunic which was torn in places, and a frayed gold scarf tied around his waist to secure a long, thin blade. Though there was a stiff wind, none of the man's clothing rippled in the breeze and there was something odd about his complexion that Rinoa couldn't quite place. Rinoa blinked at him, and she took another step back, bumped into the railing, and nearly fell.

"You'll be fine once you get your boat legs," he promised with a wink and a broad, friendly grin. "I fell down a lot my first time on a ship. 'Corse, falling down's what landed me on a ship in the first place."

Rinoa decided she must be hallucinating. She could swear on her mother's grave she could see  _through_  the man. He was there, but she could see the masts and sails and ropes through the shape he made in front of her. She shook her head and closed her eyes to clear her vision, but when she opened them again, the man was still there, and she could still see straight through him.

"He means  _sea legs_."

The woman had appeared just as suddenly as the man, making Rinoa jump in surprise a second time. This time, she yelped and stumbled back and fell right on her backside next to the rail.

The woman wore a cropped jacket with tarnished brass buttons over a dark blue corset and white linen tunic. Her long brown and white split-front skirt was ragged and torn at the hem and a pair of sturdy brown boots peeked out beneath them. Wrapped tight around her waist was a thick brown leather belt with brass buckles that secured a ring of keys and a long, curved sword at her hip. Tied into her hair was a brown scarf that held her bangs away from her stormy blue eyes. She was very pretty, but from her place on the deck, Rinoa could see the last remnants of the setting sun through the woman's body. She could see the masts and the sails and the forecastle and men going about their work on deck.

Were they... ghosts?

Rinoa didn't believe in ghosts, though as a girl, she and her friends had delighted in a good, scary story or two. But standing there, looking at two people that could not be real, she suddenly wondered if maybe there really was such a thing.

Or perhaps she'd bumped her head harder than she'd thought and nausea was making her vision blur. That was a more realistic explanation than seeing  _ghosts_.

Terrified but unable to help her curiosity, Rinoa reached out and poked the man in the shoulder. Her finger passed through with only a little resistance and was enveloped in cold, thick air.

He let out a scream of pain. Rinoa withdrew her fingertip and screamed along with him as she jumped back and bumped into the rail again.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

The man burst into laughter and gave her a pat on the arm that she didn't feel, unless she counted the sensation of a cool breeze passing over her skin and the goosebumps that raised on her arms. She shivered and blinked at him, unsure of what was happening.

"Doin' just fine, thanks for asking!"

The woman sent him a scathing glare, then turned her stormy eyes on Rinoa.

"Rather pretty, aren't you?" she said. Her expression was troubled. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

"Um, thanks?" Rinoa said.

She didn't know what the woman meant, but she didn't think she should ask.

"Don't mind the Captain," the woman said. "He's a good boy at heart. He just...hasn't found himself yet."

Rinoa doubted that very much. He seemed positively awful. And terrifying and mean and really, really horrible. He was certainly handsome, but a handsome face didn't make up for almost throwing her over the side. Or being terrible. Or laughing at her. Well, he hadn't actually laughed, but she remembered the look on his face when she'd tripped on the docks. He might as well have laughed.

The man climbed up on the rail and walked along it as though the ship wasn't rocking from side to side, arms held out with a pleased smile on his face. With a flourish, he offered his hand to the woman beside Rinoa.

"Laguna Loire, get down from there right now," the woman demanded.

"Aww, live a little, Raine," he said with a grin. "Have a little fun for once!"

"Live a little!" Raine cried. "We've been dead for seventeen years, and you say live a little!"

"Swim with me, my darling," Laguna said.

He held out a pale hand and crooked his finger, beckoning Raine to join him. Raine frowned at him and put her hands on her hips. Rinoa noticed a simple gold ring on Raine's left hand and her eyes immediately went to the man. He wore a similar ring and his smile for Raine was adoring and playful, like he had eyes for nothing else in the world but her.

Married pirate ghosts? Now she knew she was hallucinating. It seemed so ridiculous, like a adolescent fantasy borne from reading too many romance novels.

"You silly fool," Raine said. "Get down from there before you fall."

"If I fall, will you save me?" he asked playfully.

"I'll leave you to drown," she said back, "like I should have the first time. How in the world I fell in love with such a landlubber is beyond me."

"I'm such a lucky man," he said dreamily.

"You're a stupid man."

"But you love me."

"Aye."

"If you love with me, you'll swim with me," he singsonged.

"You know it's not the same."

"Then we'll pretend!" he said throwing his arms out. Then, he jumped over the side, crying, "Man overboard!"

There was no splash, but when Rinoa looked over the side, Laguna was doing a lazy backstroke through the water beside the ship. An involuntary laugh escaped her lips and she covered her smile with her hand. Ghost or not, Laguna was sweet and fun and absolutely adorable.

"Come down, Captain! The water's great!" he called up to her.

"Aye!  _Captain,_ " she called back. "I don't take orders, I give them."

"Get in the water, Raine!" he said, "Or I swear, you'll get the cuchi-cuchi treatment later."

"I'll cuchi-cuchi you, you silly man!"

Either Rinoa was going completely crazy, or this was for real. They  _seemed_  awfully real, in spite of being see-through. Perhaps the Captain had thrown her overboard and she was having a very strange near-death experience. Perhaps, they were welcoming her to the other side. If that was the case, she supposed it wasn't so bad. There were worse ways to be sent off, and at least the company was entertaining.

"Raine my darling, Raine my sweetheart," Laguna sang, loud and tunelessly. "Let's go swimin' in the moooon-light."

Raine made a face and pressed a hand to her forehead. She muttered something Rinoa didn't hear as Laguna sang louder.

"My Raine lies over the ocean, my Raine lies over the  _seaaaaaa!_ "

Rinoa giggled as she watched Laguna wave his arms like he was conducting an orchestra. The man was decidedly fun, even if he was dead. She suspected that though Raine seemed irritated by Laguna's antics, she was secretly enjoying it. All her insults had been laced with a bit of affection and now, as she looked down at her husband, there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

"If I come down, will you stop singing?"

"Cross my heart."

Raine stepped up onto the railing, swung her legs over and jumped. Wide eyed, Rinoa looked down to see the two frolicking in the water beside the ship as though it was moored in calm waters. They splashed and play-fought and swam through the churning sea, laughing as if they hadn't a care in the world.

How romantic. To be so in love, they'd stuck with one another, even in death. And the were obviously still very much in love. It was so sweet, Rinoa's heart gave a little squeeze of girlish delight. This was the stuff of story books and romantic fantasies and it was rather moving to see a love that endured, even after death.

Rinoa had been raised in a society where love didn't matter as much as status. Marriages were more or less arranged, the goal to bring wealth or power to a family rather than something built on a foundation of love and attraction. And if the marriage wasn't arranged, the match had to at least meet the approval of the family. To see love, _real love,_  made her heart sing with hope. Some day, she hoped to find something like this for herself. Rich or poor didn't matter to her. She just wanted to love and be loved in return.

When the two down below began to exchange kisses, Rinoa turned away. She would let them have their privacy, though she wondered if it even mattered. They were dead, after all. Laguna, at least, was past the point of caring what was proper and what wasn't.

She nearly forgot about the Captain and his spilled dinner until she saw him standing in the darkened doorway of his quarters watching her. How long had he been there? Had he seen her watching Raine and Laguna, or had she appeared a complete ditz, standing there alone, interacting with thin air?

A blush colored her cheeks and she hurried away from the railing to gather the scattered dishes. She avoided making eye contact as he continued to stand there, eyes following her every move. It made her nervous, and the dishes clattered together as she stacked them on the tray.

"I'll be right back," she promised.

She chanced a look at his face and couldn't tell if he was still angry or not. His arms crossed over his chest and one eyebrow hitched up as she got to her feet.

"Try not to bathe me in it this time."

Her blush grew hotter and her humiliation over having been so clumsy and impertinent grew along with it. All of a sudden, she felt like crying, but she would be damned if she cried in front of him. She was on a pirate ship. That meant she was sort-of a pirate too, and pirates didn't cry.

She lifted her chin and met his eyes. There was something in them that made her want to do her worst. Before she could stop herself, she said:

"You're lucky I'm bringing you anything," she snapped. "You did try to kill me."

He snorted softly and turned away without a word.

* * *

Later, Squall Leonhart sat in his quarters, looking over a map of Centra's coastline. It was said that the legendary pirate ship _Griever_  had met its end somewhere in the shallow waters along those rocky crags, taking a treasure greater than any before it straight to the bottom of the sea. Squall might have passed it off as a mere legend, if not for the set of keys Cid had given him as a boy.

There were six of them on a big iron ring, each one cast in the shape of a lion's head. Each was rumored to open a chest full of gold and jewels. The  _Griever_  had been undersea for so long, Squall was certain the chests had rotted away decades ago and the keys would be unnecessary if they ever found the remains of the great ship. For all anyone knew, the treasure was long gone. At best, he expected if they did find the wreckage, the tide might have scattered whatever there was to be had along the ocean floor. At worst, someone had long ago beaten them to it and there was nothing to be had. Or, perhaps, it was just a story as many believed.

The keys were less important than where they'd come from, or how they'd come to belong to Squall. Squall wasn't even sure if they mattered. Some days, he was tempted to throw them into the sea. He didn't want or need the constant reminder of the legacy he'd inherited. He had enough of a reminder in the pair of ghosts that didn't want to vacate the ship, even after meeting their own untimely end seventeen years ago.

He was haunted, in more ways than one. Haunted by the looming specters of two pirates far greater than himself. The first was quite possibly a myth, but the second had been very real, and at present, she sat across from him at the table in silence, watching him toy with the keys on the ring. Blue eyes exactly like his own watched him wordlessly as he counted the keys and ran his thumb over the ornate face of each lion carved in iron.

She spoke to him all the time, but he rarely responded. What was the point? She was dead and she pointedly refused to move on. There was nothing she could say to him now that would change that or make a difference in his trajectory. He was Captain now, in spite of his reservations or aversion to leading such a crew. Raine Leonhart had gotten what she wanted. Her son had followed her footsteps and now he was Captain of her ship. She'd gotten her wish.

Well, not everything. She was dead, and she'd never found the treasure that had claimed her life too soon, leaving Squall to grow up orphaned and on a collision course with a fate he had no choice but to accept. Now it was on him to find it and to live up to her legacy. Until then, he was a boy captain, standing in her notorious shadow.

"You're not eating," Raine said.

Squall ignored her. Even in death, she was still a mother and oh-so concerned about his eating habits and his health and his relative happiness. He wondered, if she had lived to see him grow up, if he would resent her mothering as much. The woman was always there, always looking over his shoulder, looking after him, but she'd never been able to  _be_  his mother. Not in the ways that really counted. Perhaps that wasn't her fault, but he still resented her constant presence and her concerned eyes, following him no matter where he went.

"You have a long journey ahead of you, Squall. You need to eat. You know as well as I do, food will be scarce later."

On the table, his dinner had grown cold. He had no interest in eating, though the second delivery had come without incident, and without the girl's sass. Strange that he was almost disappointed when she said nothing the second time around.

Squall clipped the key ring to his belt and returned his attention to the map. He took a long, pointed sip of his wine and let his eyes follow the ragged Centran coastline, thinking of Seifer and his head start. The other Captain had at least a day on him, but the  _Lionheart_  was a larger and faster vessel with twice as many crew and the best navigator there was. He was confident they could make up the time and overtake the  _Hyperion_ , but in truth, that wasn't what he wanted.

Though Seifer Almasy believed himself the better Captain, he allowed his heart to rule his head, and on the high seas, that was dangerous. All the heart in the world couldn't make up for lack of knowledge or practice and ambition meant nothing if one lacked the experience to back it up. Unlike Squall, Seifer had not been groomed from birth to Captain a ship. At least, not to the extent Squall had been. Squall had the benefit of not one, but two experienced captains looking over his shoulder all his life.

Some day, Almasy would be a good captain. Time and experience would ensure that, but at present, he was a hot-headed menace with something to prove after watching Squall succeed Cid as Captain of the  _Lionheart_. And Squall was not fond of being thwarted by a small-time menace with a grudge, an unwarranted sense of entitlement, and grandiose visions of fame.

Squall would much rather be Almasy's ally, rather than his enemy, but Seifer's own actions had made him a foe. He might have been First Mate if not for his subsequent tantrum and exit following Squall's appointment as Captain.

If the  _Lionheart_  were to encounter the _Hyperion_ on open waters, Squall would have no choice but to ensure it was the last time Almasy sailed. By Seifer's own declaration, Squall was no longer family. He was an enemy.

Well. So be it.

"I wish you'd eat something," Raine said.

This was the voice of a mother and not the fierce, ruthless Captain Raine Leonhart had once been. She'd learned that Squall might be guilted into doing as she wished if she appealed to him as his mother rather than ordering him to do something. Neither held much sway over him anymore, though sometimes, giving in was the best way to make her leave.

He took another swallow of his wine and finally looked up at the specter of the woman who had given birth to him. In her day, she'd been the most vicious, most dangerous and most successful pirate on the seas. She'd been known for being smart, calculating, and calm, in even the worst of situations. She'd lived hard and died young, leaving behind an infant son, an adopted daughter, and a ship that had run aground in a storm.

"Go haunt Ellone," he said.

"You need me more than she does."

Squall gave a soft snort and fiddled with the keys on his belt.

"I've become everything you wanted me to be," he said tonelessly. "Why are you still here?"

"Because this is my ship. I'll stay as long as I please," she said.

A stubborn air lifted her chin and Squall saw the fierce Captain she'd once been in her tenacious expression. Her calm defiance was familiar to him. It was a trait he'd inherited from her, along with countless other qualities, both good and bad. No one commanded Raine Leonhart, even in death.

He knew she was lying. If there was another reason she stayed, she didn't share. He knew there had to be some other reason she clung to the ship and the life she'd left behind. A part of him wondered if she wasn't waiting to see that treasure she'd failed to find. All the more reason for him to claim it so she could finally rest.

Squall refilled his glass and took another swallow as he scrutinized his mother.

"It's not your ship anymore," he said.

"This will always be my ship," she said. "Even if it winds up on the bottom of the sea."

"Fine. You Captain it," he said.

He got to his feet, swallowed down the rest of his wine and walked out, leaving his mother behind.

Out on deck, the night was cool and the took a long, deep breath of salty air. Nida, his navigator, was at the helm. Squall excused him so he could go eat, and took hold of the wheel. It made him feel better to stand there with the view of the wide night sky and the dark ocean all around him. He felt more grounded and his head clearer to have control of the ship for a while.

The wind was in their favor for now. A good omen, he hoped, but he knew better than to expect their luck to hold. Southeastern Galbadia was notorious for sudden, violent storms, and more than one experienced Capatin had met his maker in the rough waters between Galbadia and Northern Centra. For now, though fortune was on his side. The sea was calm, and the wind held steady and they were making good time.

"If I could Captain this ship, I would, you know," his mother's voice said behind him. "Dying wasn't exactly the plan."

"Never is," he agreed.

At the bow, his father stood with his feet planted on each side of the rail, his arms outstretched at his sides. His laughter carried back to Squall on the wind, and Squall shook his head in irritation.

"Was he this much of an idiot when he was alive?"

Raine's soft laugh was full of affection and amusement.

"He wasn't this reckless, just clumsy, but... Yes. He was an idiot."

Squall knew the story of how they'd met, and how that silly fool of a man had swept his smart, practical mother off her feet, but it was hard to imagine how she had fallen for a man like Laguna Loire. He took nothing seriously, distracted Squall's crew and delighted in being ridiculous. He sang and he danced and acted a complete moron most of the time.

"And yet you married him."

"Aye," she said.

"Why?"

Squall had never discussed Laguna with his mother before. He supposed it was the wine drawing out his own odd fascination with Laguna's carefree attitude. As a boy, he'd enjoyed that carefree attitude and all the jokes and rhymes and funny sayings that made no sense, but as he'd grown, his amusement had turned to disdain. The older he got, the less sense it made.

"The heart wants what it wants," Raine said. "No sense in denying it."

"Doesn't answer my question."

"He made me laugh," Raine said. "He was unpredictable. And he wasn't afraid of me."

"I would have keelhauled him."

"I almost did. Twice."

Squall glanced over at her and saw the soft, gentle smile on her lips.

"You can't help who you love," she said softly. "Nor your reasons for loving them."

* * *

By the time Rinoa sat down to eat, most of the crew was finished. She was still a little nauseous, but she ate anyway, while sharing her run-in with the Captain with Zell and Selphie. They both absorbed her words with wide-eyed concern and she tried not to burst into tears when she realized how surprised they were that he had let her live.

"Cap'n doesn't joke around about stuff like that," Selphie said. "Usually, he'd just toss you over the side and walk away."

"Could be that I threatened to get sick on him..." Rinoa murmured.

"You what?" Zell asked. "Oh, Rin. That was a bad idea."

"What was I supposed to do? Let him kill me?"

"I'm surprised he didn't," Zell said. "Leonhart doesn't play around. You better mind your tongue from now on or else you're fish food."

The tall, purple hatted pirate Rinoa had seen on deck joined them, carrying four mugs. He pushed one at Rinoa with a smarmy smile and lifted one eyebrow, inviting her to take his offering.

"This is Irvine," Selphie said, hitching a thumb at the man. "Better known as Scurvy Irvy."

"No one calls me that but you," Irvine said.

"Not true," Selphie said. "Everyone knows what a scurvy dog you are. Do _not_ trust him, Rinny. His ego's bigger than his hat."

Irvine pressed a hand to his chest and frowned.

"That hurts, Sef," he said. To Rinoa. "You're the girl that ran into the boom."

"That would be me. Though, it hit me and not the other way around."

Rinoa eyed the contents of the mug Irvine had given her with suspicion. It was filled with a clear, brownish liquid and smelled of spices and strong alcohol.

"What is this?"

"Grog," Zell supplied. "Don't worry. It's just a little rum mixed with sugar and water."

Rinoa didn't know if her stomach could handle rum yet. Though a little food had settled it, she still had that uneasy, sick feeling that came from the constant rocking motion beneath her. She now knew it was seasickness, and she was doing her best to fight it back. Still, she took a small sip and found that it wasn't so bad. She tasted vanilla, orange peel, clove and allspice mixed with honey, followed by a powerful punch of liquor. The second sip was even better and it actually settled her stomach a little.

"Um, so... maybe this is a strange question, but... Is this ship haunted?"

All three of them laughed and Rinoa felt dumb for asking.

"I take it you met Laguna."

"And Raine," she said.

"She actually talked to you?" Selphie asked.

Rinoa nodded.

"She doesn't talk to anyone but the Cap'n," Selphie said doubtfully.

"Who are they?"

They all exchanged glances as though they weren't sure if they should tell her or not. Zell finally shrugged and took a long swallow of his grog before turning to Rinoa.

"Captain Raine Leonhart was the baddest pirate on the seas in her time," Zell said. "A real tough broad. Didn't mess around and was pretty much feared by everyone. This was her ship and the Captain's her son."

Rinoa didn't know what to address first. The fact that the woman had given birth to such a hateful, horrible man, or the fact that she'd been notorious.

"She didn't seem that fearsome," Rinoa said.

"Trust me, she can be," Irvine said.

"So, how did she die?"

"Terrible storm one night," Irvine said. "Washed most of the crew overboard, including Raine and her husband Laguna. Ship was found on a sandbar near the Island Closest to Hell a few days later. The Captain and his sister were the only survivors."

"That's sad," Rinoa said. "And kind of romantic. At least they went together."

"Nothing romantic about drowning," Zell said. "And they're still here, so something musta gone wrong."

"They're looking out for their boy is what they're doing," Irvine said, giving Zell a knowing glance. "Now, Laguna talks to everyone, but that Raine, she don't talk to no one but the Cap'n."

"But she  _did_  talk to me," Rinoa said. "At least, I think she was talking to me."

"What did she say?"

"That the Captain needed to find himself."

"Huh," Selphie said. "That's weird. I've been trying for years to get her to talk to me and nothin'. Not a word."

Then, Selphie's expression softened.

"Laguna's handsome, don't you think?" the petite girl asked.

"Laguna's dead, Sef. Doesn't matter if he's handsome or not," Irvine said, frowning at Selphie.

"Does so," Selphie insisted. To Rinoa, she said: "He's actually a lot of fun. And as long as you stay out of Raine's way and aren't a threat to her son, you'll be fine."

"Yeah, even though she's dead, she's pretty damn scary," Zell said. "I remember this one time, back before the Cap'n was a Cap'n, these raiders tried to board the ship. He took a pretty bad hit in the shoulder, cut him wide open. Well, Raine, she got pissed and she chased them right off the ship. It was like she was going into battle with us, swinging her cutlass and barking orders. Craziest thing I ever saw."

"So, she looks out for him," Rinoa said.

"She's been known to make people disappear," Selphie said. "If you get my drift."

"It's not nice to talk about people behind their backs, you know," Laguna said and plopped down at the table beside Irvine.

"You're dead, so what's it matter?" Irvine asked.

Selphie flashed Laguna an adoring smile and Rinoa detected a bit of jealousy in Irvine's expression. Irvine dropped an arm around Selphie's shoulders, frowning down at the way Selphie was looking at Laguna. Rinoa didn't know what was weirder. Selphie having an obvious crush on a ghost or Irvine's reaction to it.

"Still have feelings," Laguna said. "And none of you can prove that my Raine made anyone disappear."

"Maybe not, but seems like anyone who messes with him winds up shark bait."

"Could be they were just clumsy."

"Should I be worried?" Rinoa asked. "I did kick him."

"Naw," Laguna said, a ghostly hand reaching over to pat hers. She felt nothing except an icy breeze on her skin. "I think she's rather fond of you."

"Why?" Rinoa asked. "She doesn't even know me."

"Sparks, my dear. Like all the stars in the sky..." Laguna began to sing and he got up to dance away from the table. "Yo, ho, ho..."

Rinoa shivered and took another swallow of grog. Now that she knew Raine was the Captain's mother, she saw the resemblance. But where Raine had a bit of warmth behind her stern disapproval of Laguna's antics, the Captain was icy cold and cruel. Still, he hadn't thrown her overboard, so perhaps there was a little humanity in him.

Across the table, Selphie snatched Irvine's hat off his head and dropped it on her own. It swallowed her whole face and Rinoa could only see her big grin beneath it. Irvine made a bid to retrieve it, but Selphie darted away from the table after Laguna with a giggle. Irvine shrugged and returned his attention to Rinoa.

"I heard you called the Cap'n a meany."

"I did," Rinoa said.

"Strong words," he teased.

Rinoa shrugged, and lifted her chin a little. "What would you have called him?"

"I wouldn't have called him anything," Irvine said. "But if you're looking for a good insult, try abbey lubber, scallywag or bilge rat. Just don't blame me if he gives you a short drop and a quick stop."

Rinoa understood none of that. It was almost like a different language. She obviously had a lot to learn if she was going to survive this adventure.

"What does that mean?" Rinoa asked.

"Hanging," Zell supplied.

Rinoa did not want to be hanged, keelhauled or anything else that involved dying. She would have to make sure not to anger the Captain any more than she already had. From the sound of it, she was lucky he hadn't carried through on his threat.

"If you ask me, the man could use a good tumble in the sheets," Irvine said. "Always works for me when I get a little cranky."

Rinoa blushed and Irvine's face lit up. He hitched up an eyebrow and took a swallow from his cup.

"You're not some sheltered girl who ran away from home, are you?" he asked.

Rinoa's blush deepened and she stammered, unable to find words to deny his extremely accurate accusation. That was exactly what she was and she was disappointed that it showed.

"Relax," he said offering a friendly smile. "You wouldn't be the first, though most of your lot run away screaming as soon as we make port."

"I won't," she promised. "I'm tougher than that."

"You must be if you mouthed off to the captain before we were barely out of the harbor," Irvine said. "Tell me, what makes a sheltered girl run away from home, anyway?"

While Rinoa didn't want to get into the particulars of her situation, she felt an honest answer was due. She wasn't stupid enough to tell them who she really was, in case that made her more valuable as a prisoner than as a member of the crew. Not that her father had the funds to pay ransom, but most people didn't know just how far in debt the man had gotten himself, and it wouldn't stop anyone from making demands on him.

"Obligation."

Irvine laughed and set his cup down. His smile was amused and genuine.

"You were obligated to run away?"

"Something like that," she said. "It was run or... become someone I don't want to be. I felt like I'd die if I didn't get away."

"Well, fortune favors the bold," Irvine said with a crooked smile. "And the foolhardy."

His smile was not directed at Rinoa, but at Selphie, who had climbed up on a table to dance a jig with Laguna. Shouts of anger arose as Selphie's boot knocked over someone's mug of grog but Selphie danced on, laughing gleefully as Laguna whipped off his hat and bowed to her.

Beside Rinoa, Zell shook his head at the girl and downed the rest of his drink.

"She's as bad as he is," Zell commented.

"Don't I know it," Irvine said with a resigned sigh.

"Psh, don't even pretend you don't enjoy every second of it."

Irvine finished his own drink and got to his feet.

"Suppose I should go get my hat back," he said. "And remind my woman the dead, old guy won't keep her warm at night."

Rinoa blushed again and tried not to picture Irvine and Selphie curled up in a hammock together. She wasn't used to people being so open about private things, but she supposed in time, she would get used to it. At the moment, though, it was still shocking.

"Come on," Zell said. "We should get some sleep. We're up before everyone but the Cap'n and the night watch."

Back in the Galley, Rinoa sifted through her bag for her nightgown, then crawled into the bunk and pulled the curtain. Blank and Cinna were busy hauling in dishes as she changed and she hoped they weren't watching her through the gap in the curtain. She might just have to use that frying pan as a weapon if they were.

She was about to close her eyes when she decided that maybe she did need a weapon, just in case. She was one of about six women on the entire ship, and she didn't want to take any chances. Ignoring the looks she got from Blank and Cinna, she opened the cabinet and retrieved a heavy, cast iron frying pan and then returned to her bunk. Snorts of laughter filled the room as she pulled the curtain closed and lay down and waited for them to stop making noise.

It was a while before they were done, but the ship was not quiet when they finally retired. She could hear the echoes of voices and laughter from beyond the galley, and all around her were ticks and pops and bangs as the ship rocked in the waves. Every sound made her think the ship was going down, that it had sprung a leak and she was going to drown. Every peal of laughter was some filthy man plotting against her virtue.

She slept fitfully, tossing and turning on the hard, thin mattress and she dreamed of going overboard. Sometimes the Captain threw her. Sometimes she fell on her own.

A scrape and a bump woke her from her light doze and she sat up, listening carefully for any indication that someone was up to no good. She heard nothing and relaxed until the distinct sound of a boot against the wood floor made her sit up straighter. Her fingers curled around the handle of the frying pan as she heard a second footstep and a soft clank.

Zell had told her no one was allowed in the galley outside of meals. Either someone was coming to defile her or they were in search of a snack. If she were to bet on it, she'd place her coins on the snack. She frowned and swung her feet to the floor, clutching the frying pan as she got up as quietly as she could.

The woodstove was almost out, but it cast enough light that she could very clearly see the shape of someone digging through a crate on the other side of the room. On light feet, she crept up behind them, brandishing the pan as if it were a sword.

"Oh no you don't," she said.

The forager turned just as she swung the pan with all her strength. It collided with his head with a hard, solid clang and as the man fell, she saw his stunned face staring back at her. Her stomach dropped as his eyes rolled back in his head as he slumped to the floor.

It was the Captain. And she'd knocked him unconscious.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Seifer Almasy stood at the bow of his ship, the  _Hyperion_  and stared out at the night with a mixture of trepidation and irritation. When he'd left port, he'd been filled with a sense of victory and purpose as the small ship cut a brisk path through the waves toward the treasure he knew was waiting for him. They'd made great time, in spite of his crew's inept and juvenile behavior and overall lack of sailing experience. The wind had been in their favor, and for the first time, Seifer had felt he had an edge over his competition. He would find the treasure first. He would reap the rewards of being the best, most fearsome pirate to ever sail the seas. He'd felt it in his bones.

That was until the bilge pump stopped working and the wind died to a weak breeze.

Now they were adrift, slowly taking on water, and the breeze fluttered the crimson sails but could not fill them no matter how he tried to angle the booms. The were all but stalled, going nowhere fast and every second he wasn't gaining meant the  _Lionheart_  was closing the gap. Seifer could not afford for that to happen. No matter what Squall believed, Seifer was the better sailor and pirate, and Seifer planned to prove it.

If that wasn't a kick in the throat, the idle crew behind him certainly was. Presently, they'd gathered near the stern and had busted open a barrel of mead. Normally, this wouldn't bother Seifer so much. Normally, he'd join in the revelry, but now that the high of getting a head start had worn off, it left him with a growing sense of impatience and annoyance. Were they not aware that if they didn't get the ship moving again, Leonhart and his merry band of idiots would overtake them and beat them to the prize? Wasn't that the point of this whole endeavor? To prove Leonhart was not even half the pirate his mother had been and to take what was rumored to be the biggest treasure to be had.

He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Zidane swinging upside down below the crow's nest, hanging on with just his stupid monkey tail. This kid actually was a pirate, having grown up on a ship, and he knew what he was doing. Problem was, Seifer hadn't known what a moron he acted like in front of girls.

Seifer had had enough. He turned fully around and glared at the gathering in consternation.

"This isn't a pleasure cruise," he shouted. "Get back to work!"

His order was met with absolute silence. The only one of the bunch to look appropriately ashamed was one of a group of treasure hunters he'd picked up in Balamb. Yula or something. Yona?

 _Yuna._  That was it.

Yuna cast her eyes to the deck and clasped her hands in front of her. Her scary amber-eyed friend leaned casually against stack of barrels, arms folded over her chest, staring back at him with an expression that reminded Seifer a little too much of Squall. He had no idea where the cute one was, but it didn't matter. None of them knew a lick about sailing and if they didn't figure it out, he was going to start chucking bodies over the rail, starting with the idiot hanging upside down.

"WORK!" he bellowed and stormed toward his cabin in a huff.

Before he could retreat to the relative silence of his private room, a cute blonde with braided and beaded hair tied up in a colorful bandanna bounced into his path and grinned hugely up at him. She was tiny but feisty and not at all afraid of him.

"Stop right there, Cap'n," she said cheerily. "I've got news."

"You giving me orders?" he barked and narrowed his eyes. Being mean to this girl did not have the desired effect.

"Nope," she said. "But if you're gonna be poopie about it, maybe I won't tell you."

Seifer sighed. "What is it?"

"I got the bilge pump working again," she said. She held up an extra-large pair of shredded, soaking wet long johns that Seifer suspected belonged to Raijin. "These were all tangled up in the motor. Took a while to get 'em out, but once I did, I got it going again. Piece of cake."

Seifer eyed her and dialed down his hostility a notch. This was better news than he expected. Much better news. It meant his ship would not end up on the bottom of the sea or beach itself on a sand bar.

"You fixed it?"

"I just said I did, didn't I?" She rolled her eyes at him. "It's working just fine now."

"What's your name again?"

"Rikku," she said coyly.

"Congratulations, Rikku," he said. "You've just been promoted to Chief Engineer."

"What's that?" she asked. "Sounds fun."

Seifer pinched the bridge of his nose. Why, oh why had he filled his crew with idiots who knew nothing about sailing?

Because they worked for almost nothing and a the promise of a cut of the as yet undiscovered treasure. And, Seifer had to admit, because filling his ship with eye-candy had somehow taken precedence over filling it with experienced sailors. Well, at least this eye-candy was useful for something other than looking cute.

"It means you'll be in charge of fixing things that break."

"I can do that," Rikku said. "Thanks Cap'n!"

She punched him in the arm playfully but a bit too hard and bounded off across the deck to join her friends. Seifer saw her make a point of stepping on a tattooed guy in overalls sprawled face-down on the deck. The guy groaned in pain but didn't get up. Seifer gave a little snort of appreciation for her lack of consideration for the guy's well-being. It was something he would do to a sailor that had passed out face first on deck like an idiot. Actually, Seifer probably would have done worse on principal.

As he grabbed the doorknob that would lead him back to relative peace and quiet, Fujin stepped into his path. Her expression was grim and Seifer braced himself for a kick in the shin or a complaint.

He got neither.

"NEWS."

"What is it, Fuu?" he asked tiredly. "I already know about the bilge pump."

"THERE."

She pointed toward the horizon. Seifer cast his gaze away from his First Mate and toward the sea. He stiffened and narrowed his eyes at the not-so-distant lights bobbing above the waves. A twinge of excitement coursed through his veins at the prospect of plunder.

"Merchant ship?" he asked.

Fujin shook her head and the twinge of excitement tightened into irritation once more as he anticipated what Fujin was about to say.

"LEONHART."

Seifer peered at the lights, a flare of anger rising in his chest. Leonhart. He hadn't expected an encounter so soon, but what the hell. Now was as good a time as any, and better to be on the offensive than to cross his fingers and hope that he was not spotted.

"Ready the cannons," he said. "Prepare for the crew for battle."

"ORDERS?"

"Take the helm," Seifer said. "And then ram them with everything we've got."

"CAPTAIN?"

"Sink 'em Fuu," Seifer said. "I want that goddamn ship on the bottom of the sea by sun up."

* * *

Rinoa dropped the frying pan in her hand and scrambled away from the unconscious Captain in a panic. Her back hit the side of her bunk just as a sleepy-eyed Zell peered out from behind the curtains in confusion. When the captain woke up, he was most certainly going to drop her over the side without a second thought. She was doomed.

"Whassgoinon?" Zell mumbled at her.

Incapable of coherent speech, Rinoa lifted a finger and pointed at the unconscious man on the floor. Zell gave a soft curse and sighed as he swung his legs over the edge of the bunk. Fully alert now, Zell hopped down out of the bunk and ran a hand through his sleep-smashed bangs.

"What did you do this time?"

"I thought he was an intruder," Rinoa squeaked. "You said no one in the kitchen. To make sure no one stole food."

"I said that," Zell agreed. "But I also said no one BUT the captain."

"I didn't know it was him, I swear," she said. She bit her lip. "Think he's going to kill me?"

"Probably," Zell said with a straight face. He turned toward her and took her by the arm. "Get back in your bunk. I'll handle this."

"But-"

"Just... Get back in your bunk, Rin," Zell said. "Please."

Reluctantly, Rinoa pushed the curtains aside and sat but didn't retreat entirely. She did not trust that Zell wasn't about to throw himself on the fire for her sake. She didn't know why she got that impression, or why he would bother, since so far, she hadn't been able to do anything right. Though the Captain was less likely to kill Zell, it wasn't fair for him to take the blame on her behalf.

Zell nudged the Captain with his foot. "Hey, Cap. Wake up."

The Captain didn't move and Rinoa's face scrunched with worry. She hadn't... killed him, had she? She held on to the sliver of hope that the man might be merciful if he was alive, but if she'd killed him, she wasn't likely to see the sunrise.

Zell scratched his head and looked over his shoulder at her.

"How hard did you hit him?"

"Pretty hard," she said. She pointed to the cast iron frying pan on the floor. "Maybe too hard?"

Zell scratched his chin again and sighed. He gave the Captain another nudge with his toe and crossed his arms.

"Okay, here's what we're going to - "

"TOPSIDE!" a sharp female voice called out. "ALL CREW, TOPSIDE ON THE DOUBLE!"

Rinoa froze. Had someone seen and word had spread that she'd assaulted the Captain? Were they going to make her walk the plank? Oh, Hyne, was it really that bad? Her heart pounded in her chest as a bell began to clang and she heard the rustle of people moving around and the echo of footsteps on the wooden floor beyond the galley.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Zell said. "Come on. Help me get him up."

Rinoa reluctantly climbed from her bunk and joined Zell on the floor. Together, they lifted the still unconscious Captain to a sitting position and Zell slapped lightly at the man's face. In sleep, Captain Leonhart looked very, very young. Also, a little too cute for his own good. How could someone so good looking be such a mean meanie? It didn't seem right.

"Leonhart, wake up," Zell said, louder this time but there was no response.

"Get me a mug of water, will ya?" Zell asked.

Rinoa got to her feet and went to the barrel of water on the other side off the galley. She pried the lid off and dipped the ladle in to fill a mug, wondering what Zell meant to do with it. She replaced the lid and carefully carried the water back to Zell, trying not to spill. Water sloshed over the sides anyway as her unsteady legs made her sway. She wished she could blame her unsteadiness on being unaccustomed to living on a ship, but that wasn't entirely true.

"...here," she said, offering Zell the cup.

"Throw it in his face."

"What?!"

"The shock will wake him up," Zell said. "Hurry up. We need to get topside."

"I'm not doing that!"

"Rin, just do it, okay?" Zell said. "Don't worry. I've got a good grip on him so he doesn't try to choke you when he wakes up."

Rinoa gaped at Zell, incredulous. She definitely did not want to risk being choked. Or any other form of attack the Captain might attempt in retribution for her stupid,  _stupid_ , thoughtless assault on him or even simply for throwing water in his face.

"You do it," she said, holding the mug out. "I do _not_  want to be the first thing he sees when he wakes up in case he remembers I'm the one who brained him with a skillet. And I don't want to be choked to death."

"This is  _your_  fault. You get to wake him up."

Rinoa swallowed hard and took a deep breath.

"If he decides to kill me for this, I'm taking you down with me," she said. "It was your idea."

"Rin, seriously," Zell said. "We don't have time for this."

"Okay, okay!" she cried. She upended the cup over the Captain's head and muttered, "It's been nice knowing you, Zell."

The Captain's eyes popped wide open and he gasped as he sat up straight. Water poured from his hair and streamed down his face in tiny rivers. Slowly, he turned his eyes on her and Rinoa cringed. It was like being stared at by a hungry, feral animal. One false move and he'd tear her to pieces and feed her to the fish.

"How did I know it would be you?" he murmured.

"I-"

"We got bigger problems, man," Zell said. "Trepe sounded the alarm. Can you walk?"

The Captain tore his eyes from her and he nodded, then winced in pain. He pressed a gloved hand to the back of his head and grunted.

"You and I are not done with this conversation," he said to Rinoa frostily as he got to his feet. "Stay in your bunk. I'll be back to deal with you later."

"But-"

Zell's warning glance made any protest die in her throat. She swallowed back tears and retreated to her bunk without a word. She closed the curtain and backed up against the wall to wrap herself up in the thin blanket as if it would protect her from what was coming. Maybe it would be better if she jumped overboard on her own instead of letting Captain Meanie Pants do it instead. She was certain that death awaited her in the very near future.

From behind the closed curtain, she heard the sounds of activity and muffled voices and shouts from above. Her thoughts turned from imagining all the ways Captain Leonhart might decide to punish her to what could possibly be going on above deck.

She'd been told to stay put, but curiosity reared its ugly head, and she peeked out from behind her curtain just as an explosion split the relative quiet of the galley. A second later, the ship listed heavily to one side and Rinoa was toppled out of bed and onto the floor of the Galley, where she tumbled to a stop against the worktable. Her head smacked against the wooden edge hard enough that she saw stars and blackness for an instant. Tears of pain filled the corners of her eyes and she wiped them away as her vision cleared.

She lifted her hand to the back of her head and she felt a lump already forming beneath her fingertips. Could have been worse. At least she hadn't been knocked unconscious.

Slowly, she got to her feet and weighed her options. Now that she'd been forced from her bunk, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take a peek. Just a quick look and she'd return to her bunk to await her impending execution. She grabbed her dress and pulled it on over her head, tying the sash hastily as she headed out the door.

The hold beyond the galley door was empty, but there were shouts and sounds of battle from above as she climbed the ladder to the deck. That alone should have sent her running back to her quarters, but the lure of excitement was too great for Rinoa to deny. She was going to die anyway, so what was the point of following directions? There was nothing worse he could do to her than what he already had planned, so... whatever. She had nothing to lose.

Rinoa had never seen a real battle before. Some of her male school friends had joined the army, and her father had been to war, and their tales of bravery and heroism never failed to enchant her. Back before she and her father had stopped seeing eye to eye, his tales of battle and victory against the mighty but terrible Empire of Esthar had been her favorite bedtime stories. She'd fantasized for years as a girl about lifting a weapon and charging into battle for a good cause, leaving fear and uncertainty behind. In her head, she was a champion of the weak, a freedom fighter, a leader of the oppressed.

In reality, she was just a step below a spoiled princess and she knew that. It didn't stop her from wanting to join the fight going on above. To be useful was to be valuable. Indispensable even. If she helped out, helped them win the battle, the cranky captain would have no choice but to spare her life and declare her part of the crew. No one killed the hero.

With this in mind, Rinoa resumed climbing and found herself in the middle of an all-out brawl. A smaller ship with dark red sails butted up against their much larger ship and armed sailors spilled onto deck with blades and various other weapons in hand. A thrill of adrenaline spiked in her veins and she looked around for something to fight with. There was nothing useful so she crouched behind crates and moved as silently as she could to get closer to the action. Someone would go down, and she would pick up their weapon when they did.

In the midst of all of it, the Captain shouted orders as he battled a tall, blonde pirate in a elegant white coat. Leonhart, having been knocked unconscious only a short time ago seemed no worse for the wear. In fact, it was rather impressive to see the man fight. His face was a picture of focus and determination, his eyes fixed on his target like a lion who had sighted the weakest member of the pack. Except, from the looks of it, this lion had chosen the big game rather than an easy target. The man he fought was no less impressive in skill, though the blonde was far less precise in his movements. She felt like she was watching a well choreographed fight in a play, not an actual battle. It was incredible, and sort of beautiful.

She crept closer, wondering what she could do to help when a hand seized her from behind and dragged her to her feet. She spun around to face a tall, silver-haired woman with cold amber eyes.

"Yuna. A hostage," the woman deadpanned.

A brown haired girl about her age, stepped forward and inspected Rinoa from head to toe. Rinoa struggled a little, but the amber-eyed woman's grip was like a vice. The other woman's gaze was kind and contemplative rather than hostile. After a moment, the woman, presumably Yuna, shook her head.

"She's dressed like a kitchen wench," Yuna said. "She has no weapon."

"Your point?"

"What's the point of taking a serving girl hostage?"

"You're too soft hearted for your own good," the amber eyed woman said and let Rinoa go. "Want me to kill her?"

"I don't think that will be necessary," Yuna said.

Rinoa let out a breath of relief and sagged back against the crates.

"Thanks," she breathed. "For not killing me."

"Mmm," Yuna hummed with a slight nod. "Before you go, is there a young man named Tidus on this ship? Blonde, athletic?"

"Not that I know of," Rinoa said. "But I'm new, so..."

"We're in the middle of a battle and you're asking about your boyfriend?" the amber-eyed girl asked.

The dejected shrug Yuna gave in response tugged at Rinoa's heart. Rival pirates or not, Rinoa empathized a little. Not that Rinoa had a long lost boyfriend or anything. Not that she'd ever really experienced much in the romance department at all, but still, she understood the sadness in Yuna's eyes. Maybe because the girl was her age, or maybe because Yuna had kindly spared her from death or kidnapping, Rinoa couldn't hate her. Not even a little bit.

"I'd stay out of sight if you want to live," Yuna said softly. "Or go below deck. The others won't be so kind."

Rinoa knew she was right, but she had no intention of returning to her bunk or sitting out. She could do this. She could do something to help.

She dropped back down behind the crates and continued to creep forward to peer through a gap that gave her a good view of the Captain. He and the other pirate were engaged in a fierce battle, blades crashing against one another with bangs that sounded like gunfire. In the background, she spied Zell without a weapon, pummeling the crap out of a blonde that looked suspiciously like he had a... tail? Rinoa shook her head, sure she was seeing things and turned her attention back to the Captain.

Something heavy landed on her, sending her forehead right into the edge of a crate. Momentarily stunned, she was pinned between the heavy thing and the crate and unsure of how to proceed. When the heavy thing didn't move, she shoved backwards and turned around. A dead pirate rolled into the space behind her and Rinoa suppressed a little shriek of fear.

"Take his weapon, Rinoa."

Startled, Rinoa turned and came face to face with the infamous ghost of Raine Leonhart. She expected to be confronted with anger over having belted the woman's son in the head with a frying pan. Instead, she saw quiet encouragement and a touch of amusement in the woman's pale, semi-transparent face.

"Go ahead," Raine said. She tilted her head toward a strange looking contraption laying beside the fallen man. "You want to make yourself useful, then quit hiding and _make yourself useful_."

Rinoa nodded and reached for the weapon. She wasn't sure what it was, but it looked like a projectile of some sort, like a crossbow but with a small disk like a saw blade in place of an arrow or bolt. Quickly, she searched the body for additional disks but found none. Oh well. Better than nothing, she supposed. She'd have to make her one shot count.

She took a deep breath and went up on her knees, bracing the weapon against the top of a crate and aimed at the tall pirate. She pulled the trigger just as the taller man brought his blade down upon the Captain, slicing deep into the Captain's face. Rinoa didn't see the if her aim was true or not. All she saw was the bright crimson stream of blood wash over the Captain's handsome face.

He went to a knee, stunned and maybe blinded by his injury and Rinoa leapt to her feet just as the projectile came careening back to her and lodged itself firmly back in place on the weapon. That was handy. She aimed and fired again as the blonde pirate raised his blade to finish the fallen Captain off and this time she saw the little saw blade slice into the sleeve of the man's coat. The coat instantly turned crimson and his gaze slid her way just as the Captain got shakily to his feet and swung his blade upward.

Rinoa screamed as the tall pirate's face split open and blood sprayed across the deck. The projectile returned to her once more and she fired on him again. Raine drifted toward her injured son as the tall pirate gave a grunt of pain when Rinoa's attack hit home.

"Get off our ship, you... scallywag!" Rinoa said through gritted teeth.

"Rinoa?" the pirate murmured as he dropped his blade and wiped the blood from his eyes.

Rinoa took a step back and stared at the tall blonde man. He looked familiar. Really familiar.

"Seifer?" she asked. " _You're_  the dread pirate Almasy?"

He gave her a slight, shaky bow. Then, he slid to the ground and landed on his backside with a thud.

Suddenly the chaos around her swelled into a whirlwind of bodies and the sound of shouts and metal crashing against metal as Almasy's men attempted to retrieve their captain. Rinoa didn't care one way or another. Not really. She might have a bit of history with Seifer Almasy, but she was far more concerned about the Captain's welfare than Seifer's.

Captain Leonhart sat on the deck, bloody and dazed but alive. His eyes were unfocused and the cut on his face was deep. Rinoa dropped to her knees in front of him just as she heard First Mate Trepe call out to the troops.

"FULL PRESS!" Trepe cried. "DRIVE THEM BACK."

Rinoa took the captain's face between her palms to inspect the wound. He winced away from her touch but she held firm. It wasn't life threatening, but it was nasty. He would need to be stitched up and it was sure to leave an ugly scar.

"Come to finish the job?"

"Excuse me, I saved you," she declared.

"I beg to differ."

"Be quiet," she ordered and tore a scrap of fabric from he hem of her dress and attempted to press it against his wound. "I'll try to stop the bleeding."

The Captain swatted her hand away and muttered a curse under his breath. Rinoa frowned down at him, wracking her brain for a way to get him to comply. He was weak and a little out of it. If he fought too hard, she supposed she could wrestle him down and make him submit to her sorely lacking nursing skills.

"READY THE CANNONS!"

Footsteps alerted Rinoa to a potential threat and she lifted the weapon from the ground to aim it in the direction of the attack. She sighed audibly when she saw who it was.

"What happened?" First Mate Trepe demanded. She dropped down beside Rinoa and let out a little gasp at all the blood. "Where's Almasy?"

"Being dragged back on that dinghy he calls a ship," the Captain muttered.

"No thanks to me," Rinoa said hotly. "You're welcome by the way."

"Then I'll not thank you," he said.

"Leonhart, you're injured," Trepe said. "Badly. You need to let Rinoa treat you."

"M'fine," he grunted. He cast a cloudy, unfocused gaze on the First Mate. "You forgot to tell them to fire at will."

Trepe's mouth quirked into a smile and she turned toward the bow and bellowed out an order to fire. A moment later, another voice called for retreat. Rinoa noted it was not Seifer.

"Let's get him to his quarters," Trepe said. "Help me get him up."

"I can stand," the Captain said petulantly.

"Then on your feet, Leonhart," Rinoa said lightly. The withering glare he sent her way made her cringe and she backpedaled. "Captain. Sir _. Um..._ "

"Go away," he grunted. "Told you to stay in your bunk."

"Good thing I didn't listen!" she fired back.

"That is debatable."

He pushed himself into a crouch and rose slowly, but the moment he stood at his full height, his face paled and he pitched forward. Rinoa stepped into his path just in time to keep him from crashing face first on the deck. She tucked herself under his arm and the First Mate took the other side. Together, to the sound of cannon blasts, dragged him into his quarters. He protested weakly but apparently, two head injuries had sapped all the conviction from his body.

They deposited him on the bed and Trepe passed Rinoa a handful of rags and a bottle of grain alcohol.

"Can you sew?"

"A little," Rinoa said, frowning at the memory of being made to embroider and stitch clothing every afternoon in preparation for running a household some day. She wasn't bad at it she just wasn't particularly skilled either, mostly due to her lack of interest in such things. "Why do you ask?"

The First Mate passed her a small box that contained sewing supplies and Rinoa stared into the box with an eyebrow lifted.

"That wound will need to be stitched up," First Mate Trepe said. She pressed a bottle of mead into the Captain's hands. "For the pain."

"Wait, you want  _me_  to stitch him up?" Rinoa cried. "With... This?"

"I can't very well do it," the blonde woman said. "I have to get back out there in his stead. Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"It's not me I'm worried about," Rinoa muttered, earning her a snort from the injured cranktopus on the bed.

"Just take care of it," Trepe said. "Please."

With that, the First Mate left Rinoa all alone with the one person she absolutely did not want to be left alone with.


	4. Chapter 4

Squall watched warily as the girl threaded a needle with shaking hands. Her expression was equal parts concentration and mortification and Squall did not trust that she was capable enough to sew his face back together without causing considerable damage. He took a swallow of mead and stared at her wordlessly as she held the tip of the needle above a candle flame to sterilize it.

His mother sat in silence on the other side of the room. Squall tried to ignore the worry in the woman's face, but it was hard to push it aside. He thought about all the times he'd been injured or sick and how she'd worn that same sad, concerned expression as she'd hovered around like she could do something to help. For all her worry and concern, Raine Leonhart had never been able to do anything but watch and Squall felt a stab of resentment in his gut because she was there to witness, but had never been the one to hold or care for him.

He hated the look in her eyes now. He had always hated it. If it was so painful for her to watch, why didn't she leave? Why did she insist on staying? He didn't understand. No more than he'd ever understood why she'd married a man so ill suited for the kind of life she lived. She could say all she wanted about the heart's desires and the futility of fighting against reason, Squall believed logic would always dictate his own choices. Logic should have dictated Raine's choices and Squall would never understand how she'd allowed herself to fall for the least logical choice. That would never happen to him. He would make sure it didn't.

The girl moved to the edge of the bed, an alcohol soaked rag in one hand, and she perched herself beside him. He turned his attention from his mother to the dark-haired nightmare above him. Her eyes were filled with uncertainty but her jaw held a certain stubbornness that Squall decided would either serve him well, or lead to disaster.

Gently, she blotted away the blood on his forehead and pressed the alcohol soaked rag to his wound. It burned like acid and smelled worse, but Squall endured it without so much as a gasp. He focused on his breathing and the dull throb in the back of his head rather than the sharp sting of his wound.

"Um," she said, "this is going to hurt."

"It already does," he said. "Just fix it."

She bit her lip and nodded silently as she leaned over him to lightly pinch the edges of the wound together. Squall grasped her wrist in his gloved hand and felt a sharp ache in his palm. He'd broken something.

"Keep the stitches small and even," he said. "Should go without saying, but..."

"I know how to stitch," she snapped.

"I should hope so, since I'm almost certain you don't know how to cook," he said.

She blinked at him, mouth agape and then scowled as she pulled her wrist from his grasp. He winced as he felt whatever was damaged in his hand grind together and fought back the wave of dizziness brought on by the pain.

"Would you prefer to do this yourself?" she asked, offering him the needle. "Since you don't trust me."

"You haven't proven you're capable of anything but throwing disaster in my path," he murmured.

"Need I remind you, if I hadn't intervened, Almasy would have killed you," she said. "You could at least be a little bit grateful about that instead of acting like a big meanie."

Squall snorted. "There's that word again. Meanie."

"Would you prefer bilge rat, Captain?" she asked.

"That depends on whether or not you'd like to find out how cold the water is."

There was no conviction in his voice, and he knew the impact of his threat carried no weight. He couldn't stand on his own, thanks to her exceptional skill with blunt objects and Almasy's determination to maim him for life. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't have done anything to carry out the threat.

He felt a fresh trickle of blood on his forehead and gave up the fight. He didn't have the energy nor any interest in continued discussion. Under any other circumstances, or with anyone else, Squall would not have entertained it at all and he didn't know why he'd even allowed it to go on as long as it had. Something about this girl got him all riled up, and he couldn't seem to hold his tongue. It wasn't his style to engage in verbal disagreements. He preferred to solve altercations with a blade or a quick drop and short stop.

"Just fix it," he said tiredly.

She huffed and leaned over him again, biting her lip in concentration. He felt the prick of the needle against his skin and closed his eyes in preparation for the pain. When that pain didn't come, his eyes popped open and he stared up at her in irritation.

"Get on with it," he demanded.

"Well..." she said and flicked her eyes away in apparent embarrassment. "I'm used to sewing in my lap. Your wound is hard to reach from here."

"What's your point?"

"I'll be able to do a better job if you, um, put your head in my lap," she muttered. Color warmed her cheeks as she cast her eyes to the needle in her hand. "I can stitch faster."

Great Hyne this was a pain in the ass. Squall was almost at the point of telling her to forget it and go back to the kitchen, but he had a feeling even if he dismissed her, she would do whatever she wanted to do anyway. And he had absolutely no interest in additional contact, but if it would speed this along, he would suffer through it without complaint.

"Do what you need to do," he said gruffly.

She tucked errant strands of hair behind her ears and Squall reluctantly shifted so that his head rested against her thigh. He couldn't have been more uncomfortable. He'd barely flinched when she'd pressed the needle to his skin, but the sensation of her fingertips as they smoothed the hair back from his forehead stirred a strange panic in him he didn't understand. That panic scared him in a way that nothing else he'd faced did. Not even fighting off krakkens or would-be raiders made him feel this kind of helpless terror, and Squall didn't understand it. She was just a girl. A silly, wide-eyed disaster on two legs and there was nothing to her. A good storm could blow her right off the deck.

Being in such close proximity made him want to get up and run away. If he hadn't been so dizzy, he probably would have. That feeling became even more intense when her hands cradled the sides of his head and she peered down at him to survey the wound.

"That's better," she said, nodding. "I'll try to make this quick."

He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at her warm brown eyes or her furrowed brow or the way she bit her lip in concentration. At the same time, he wanted to look. He wanted to understand what it was about her that scared him witless.

As the needle passed through his skin, he grunted softly and tried to focus on breathing instead of gritting his teeth. It did not feel good but he suffered through the first stitch. His eyes watered and he squeezed them shut in attempt to make the unintended waterworks stop.

"Try to keep your face relaxed," she murmured. "When you frown, your forehead wrinkles up."

"I would have knocked him out first," his mother's voice said. "It's just easier that way."

"I thought about that, but I don't think his head can take another blow," the girl said.

"I wouldn't worry about that," Raine said. "He inherited his father's thick skull, to be sure."

The girl giggled, saw Squall's dark glare and sobered.

"And his mother's temper," Raine noted.

The only living people Raine spoke to were Squall and his sister Ellone, when Ellone was actually aboard the ship. Which she wasn't and if she was, this girl would not be the one holding the needle right now. It begged the question, why was Raine speaking to this girl as if they knew one another? Why was she speaking to her at all?

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here," he growled.

"Sorry," the girl said. "Just... this will go faster if you stop frowning."

Squall cursed under his breath and forced himself to relax his face. That wasn't easy for a man who wore a permanent frown like armor. For the next ten minutes, he suffered through the press of the sewing needle through his skin. It wasn't that bad, certainly not the worst he'd endured, and after a couple of stitches, the wound had gone mostly numb.

No, it was her. She was the reason his muscles remained tense and his jaw clenched. It didn't make sense. She was just a girl. A girl who had no business on his ship. A girl that had caused him bodily harm, sassed him, had been knocked out by the boom and had spilled his dinner all over the deck, all in less than twenty-four hours. Girls like this were the reason tradition held that women were bad luck on a ship. Girls like this were the reason good ship captains wound up on the bottom of the sea.

Squall would be a liar if he said he didn't find her attractive. Her attractiveness did not make up for her being such a disaster, even if he would reluctantly admit he owed her for the distraction that allowed him to pay Almasy back. Perhaps he wouldn't keelhaul her, but he needed her off his ship before she caused another disaster for herself or someone else.

As soon as they reached port in Centra, he would make sure she stayed on land where she belonged. That was the easiest and best solution for everyone involved.

* * *

On deck, Quistis was engaged in battle against Almasy's First Mate. Fujin was no joke, but they were an even match and Quistis knew all her tricks. Having grown up together, Quistis was no stranger to Fujin's dirtier tactics and had a few scars to prove it. The downside was that Fujin was aware of Quistis' weaknesses.

With her whip in one hand and a cutlass in the other, Quistis fought hard against Fujin's attempt to fell her. Quistis was aware that Fujin was trying to incapacitate but not kill. She imagined, First Mate Quistis Trepe would make a fine prize and offering to Almasy should Fujin manage to get the upper hand. Even if Almasy and his crew lost this battle, a valuable hostage would still be a victory and a blow to the crew of the Lionheart. Quistis had no intention of letting that happen.

Fujin lunged forward suddenly and Quistis felt the bite of Fujin's blade against her side. Quistis gritted her teeth and lashed out with the whip. It caught hold of Fujin's leg and Quistis gave the weapon a hard yank. Fujin hit the deck with a hard thump and a cry of pain and Quistis did not waste any time. She dropped onto Fujin and wrestled her onto her stomach, then used the sash around Fujin's waist to bind her wrists and ankles. Fujin put up a good fight, but she outweighed and outmatched on the ground. When she continued to struggle, Quistis raised her elbow and smashed it hard into Fujin's temple.

"RA...ge," Fujin muttered and her eyes rolled back into her head.

A sense of pride and victory filled Quistis's chest and she stood slowly and surveyed the battle around her. Most of Almasy's crew had vacated the ship on Fujin's order, but a few were still engaged in battle. From what she could tell, the fight would not last much longer. Nearby, Zell finished off a tattooed man in overalls, and she watched Xu chase a few back onto the _Hyperion_. It was nearly over, and she was satisfied enough to call it a victory.

Quistis spotted Nida and called him over to give her a hand. Together, they dragged Fujin down to the hold and shackled her to the wall. The slight woman slumped toward the floor and Quistis gave a satisfied smile as she turned away from her valuable hostage.

"The Cap'n will be pleased," Nida said.

"Aye," Quistis agreed. "Let's go finish this. Prepare to sail."

Topside, the fight was winding down, but a few of Almasy's crew continued to fight, even as Selphie readied the cannons again. Quistis didn't need to look to know Irvine hadn't missed the first shot. Irvine never missed and there was likely a good sized hole in the side of the  _Hyperion_. One that would need to be fixed before Almasy could continue much further on his journey. It might take a day or two to repair and he would likely seek out the nearest port in southern Glabadia. If their luck held, they  _Hyperion_  would never catch up.

Something smashed into the back of Quistis' head and she saw stars. She gasped in pain and spun around with her blade raised, ready for attack, but the whole world tilted and she sank to her knees.

"Cunno," a chirpy feminine voice said. Quistis' eyes fell on a petite, half-dressed blonde with too many braids. "Cap'n's orders. Sorry."

"What?" Quistis mumbled. "Who are you?"

Then she was struck again and everything went dark.

* * *

There was a hole in the  _Hyperion_  the size of a man's head. Though Seifer was on the verge of unconsciousness, he could see the damage as he was dragged back onto his ship. He knew they were doomed if they stayed. He gave the order to withdraw in a scratchy, pain laced voice that he didn't much care for and forced himself to stand. Raijin reached out to steady him just as a second blast of cannon fire went off and he felt the impact of the blow through the soles of his boots.

"WITHDRAW!" he bellowed. "HYPERION CREW, WITHDRAW."

A flurry of activity around him made him lean against the foremast heavily and he sucked in a few deep breaths before righting himself again. He was only now just aware of the taste of blood in his mouth and the warm flow of it down the side of his face. What the hell had Leonhart done to him?

And Rinoa... Seifer laughed softly at the thought of Rinoa Caraway anywhere near a ship. It was Leonhart's bad luck that Rinoa had found her way aboard. Rinoa was equal parts endearing and infuriating, and Seifer's history with her was dubious at best. Seifer had a feeling he wouldn't be Squall's biggest problem anymore. Rinoa was sure to be the downfall of the _Lionheart_  and crew. Seifer grinned to himself at the thought of getting word the massive ship had gone down in flames or that its Captain had been scratched to death by the raven haired trouble maker.

Then again, he wondered if the reason Rinoa was on the  _Lionheart_  in the first place was because of him. After all, he had swindled Fury Caraway out of a lot of money and had made a false promise to wed Rinoa and make her a Duchess of the Dollet Dukedom. Caraway had bought the whole story, hook, line and sinker, forked over a substantial investment of gold on Seifer's promise to return it threefold, then Seifer had disappeared.

For a smart, formidable man, Caraway had been easily duped. Perhaps he'd had his doubts about the deal from the beginning, but it had been the man's own greed that had prevented him from looking too deep into Seifer's claims of being the second son of a Duke. Galbadians tended to not be terribly interested in the affairs of a small city that claimed to be a country. All Caraway had seen was the possible wealth and prestige that being the father of a Duchess would bring him.

Now there was a blight on Rinoa's good name. Scandalous rumors proliferated in Deling City, rumors that questioned her virtue and smeared her presumed innocence. For a Lady of the upper class, that was as good as a death blow. Not that any such rumors had reached Rinoa's ears. Caraway had seen to that, but just the same, between her father's money troubles and the rumors, her only hope of marriage now was to a lowly widowed lord with nothing but a title and a few acres of land.

Last Seifer had heard, Caraway had gambled away what little he had left in attempt to earn back the fortune he'd lost. Seifer felt a little bad about making Rinoa an unwitting victim of his scheme, but he had no sympathy for her father.

Then again, maybe Rinoa was on the _Lionheart_  to get her revenge. Maybe she'd heard rumors of her own and had aligned herself with Leonhart to get back at him. She might have been a spoiled, impulsive brat, but she wasn't stupid.

Shame. Seifer had kind of liked her. Now she was an enemy, and Seifer spared no sympathy for enemies. In this world, there was no room for mercy, and if he ever confronted her again, he would show none.

As Seifer ruminated on this, he slid to the deck and was lifted back to his feet by Raijin. Seifer's legs wouldn't support him, so Raijin lifted him up and tossed Seifer over his shoulder, immune to Seifer's protests that he could walk or the blows Seifer dealt to the man's back.

He was dumped unceremoniously onto the bed in his quarters. His wounded forehead throbbed and the world swam. He felt like he was going to be sick.

"Tell Fujin to get us out of here," Seifer barked. "Anyone left behind is now property of Leonhart. I don't care, just get us away from them. Now."

"Aye, ya know?" Raijin said. "I ain't seen Fuu in a minute, though."

"GO. FIND. HER!" Seifer roared. "And then get someone in here to fix my face. And tell them to bring a bottle of that Trabian corn liquor."

"Aye, Cap," Raijin said. "Right away."

Seifer floated in and out of consciousness. He half-dreamed, half-fantasized about watching a kraken stick Leonhart down its gullet, head-first and chew on him like a pork chop. It was funny, but Seifer would rather Squall meet his end at the tip of Seifer's blade. That would be the most fitting end for his childhood rival. Death by any other means would be anti-climactic and Seifer would feel cheated if it wasn't his blade that ended Squall's life.

When he woke, the brown-haired whose name Seifer couldn't remember was busy tending to Seifer's wound. He winced as he felt the sting of the needle against his skin and glanced around the room in confusion.

"Hold still," the girl scolded. "I'm almost done."

Seifer suffered through it without a word and let the girl finish her work uninterrupted. His head felt awful, but the cut on his arm throbbed even worse. Whatever Rinoa had shot him with had been sharp and it had cut deep.

"All right," the girl said. "Sit up and take off your coat so I can look at your arm."

Seifer followed directions without protest and wondered where Fujin was. Yona... _Yuna_  began to stitch and Seifer reached for the bottle of liquor on the table. It burned going down and tasted terrible, but it was a good distraction from the sting of his injury and his wounded pride.

The door of his cabin burst open and Rikku and her scary friend stumbled inside, dragging someone behind them. Seifer sat up and his eyes widened as he watched them deposit Quistis Trepe, bound and gagged, on the floor of the room.

"Hey, Cap'n," Rikku said cheerfully. "Brought you a hostage."

Seifer pushed Yuna's hands away and rose to his feet in disbelief. He broke into a broad grin at the sight of dangerous, tough as nails Quistis Trepe rendered incapacitated by a pair of silly treasure hunters. If he hadn't been so dizzy, he would have done a victory dance. As it was, he had half a mind to grab Rikku and plant a big, fat kiss on her just because this was the best possible end to a really screwed up day.

"Did we do good, Cap'n? Rikku asked.

"Good?" he laughed. He pointed to Quistis and grinned. "That is Leonhart's second. The only thing that would be better than this is Leonhart himself."

"Yay!" Rikku cried and jumped in the air. Long braids and beads flailed about before she stopped and reached into her pocket. "Oh, by the way, I swiped some stuff from him. I don't know if you can use it or not, but here you go."

She tossed something at him and Seifer reached out to catch it. His fingers latched around something round and metal and he held it up to the light to see what it was. His jaw dropped and he started to laugh as he realized what Rikku had stolen.

"You stole these?" he asked.

"Sure," Rikku said with a grin and a shrug. "It was an easy. They were just dangling there."

This had not been a failed mission after all. Sure, there was a hole in the side of his ship, and he'd wound up with some ugly scars but his crew had managed to stick it to Leonhart in the most painful of ways. Seifer was positively giddy over what they'd accomplished.

"What do you want us to do with her?" the platinum haired girl asked flatly and nudged Quistis with the toe of her heeled boot.

"Stick her down in the hold," Seifer said. "Lock her up good and tight and make sure there's nothing within reach, not even a crate or a sack of flour. She's crafty and she will use anything she can to her advantage."

"Aye," she said. "Rikku, let's go."

"When you're done, get that hole in the side patched before we start taking on water," Seifer said. "Then report back here."

"On top of it, boss," Rikku chirped.

The two women dragged the still unconscious Trepe out of the cabin and Seifer smiled to himself as he watched them go. Quistis Trepe. As gorgeous as she was deadly, and she was his now. The item Rikku had stolen from Leonhart was the icing on the cake. Unknowingly, she had pilfered Leonhart's most valuable and prized possession.

He ran his thumb over the lion heads carved in iron and smiled to himself as he counted them.

All six were there.

The proverbial keys to the castle.


	5. Chapter 5

"Why isn't this ship moving?" Seifer demanded as he twirled Leonhart's keys on his finger. "Where in the bloody hell is Fujin?"

"I don't know," the brown-haired girl whose name Seifer couldn't remember said. "Would you like me to go find her?"

"Did I stutter?" he snapped.

She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes.

"I don't think you should talk to me that way. It's not very nice."

Seifer's head whipped up and he stared at the girl in disbelief.

"If you wanted nice, you shoulda joined a convent," Seifer said. "Now go find her!

As soon as the girl was gone, Seifer paced the cabin, his hands in his hair. The wound on his forehead ached, but he had bigger problems. A ship dead in the water was a problem. An injured or missing first mate was a problem. A crew that didn't know what the hell they were doing was a big problem. What good were the keys to Griever's Treasure if the ship and crew were useless?

Seifer was not a patient man. He waited for no one, and he sure as hell didn't wait for silly treasure hunters.

What the hell was that girl's name, anyway? Yanni? Yara?

It didn't matter.

He left the cabin to look for Fujin himself and found the deck full of injured crew. From the looks of it, half his crew suffered an injury of some sort, ranging from minor cuts to broken bones to deep wounds that would take weeks to heal.

Served them right for being a bunch of pathetic wannabes.

"WHERE THE HELL IS FUJIN?!" he bellowed.

No one answered. An unnatural silence fell around him as he surveyed the deck but did not find the one he sought. A bad feeling welled up in the pit of his stomach and he clenched the keys tighter in his fist.

"Someone speak up, right now," he said.

"Captured, Cap'n," the blonde pirate kid said. "I saw them take her down in the hold."

Seifer stepped toward the kid, fuming.

"What's your name again?"

"Vaan."

"You're telling me you saw the first mate be taken hostage and not only did you do nothing, you decided it wasn't important enough to tell me?" Seifer asked.

"I, uhh..."

"You SAW her be taken HOSTAGE and you didn't tell me?!"

"Yo, Cap'n," Raijin said. "The kid got the crap beaten out of him, ya know? Cut him some slack."

Cut him some slack? Seifer was the captain of a pirate ship, and his crew expected him to ignore an epic screw up like this? Oh, no. That wasn't going to happen. He would make an example of this kid, a warning for the rest of them that Seifer Almasy would not take screw ups lightly.

"String him up," Seifer said. "Spread eagle, mainsail."

"Cap'n?" Raijin squeaked.

"You heard me," Seifer said. To the boy, he said, "Congratulations. You've just become our new mascot."

He stalked away to watch as Raijin hoisted the boy up from the boom of the mainsail by his ankles. To his credit, the kid took his punishment with less screaming that Seifer expected. As he hung here, upside down with his hands dangling toward the deck, Raijin bound each wrist with a thick rope and tied them to the deck rail.

"I'm real sorry about this, ya know?" Raijin said.

Seifer let the boy hang there for a few minutes, until his face turned bright red. Then, he sauntered over and grabbed the boy by the hair.

"What was it you were screaming on the docks when I met you?" Seifer asked.

"Cap'n Basch?"

"Yeah," Seifer agreed. "I want to hear it. Nice and loud."

"I'm Captain Basch!"

"All of it."

"I'm Captain Basch fon Ronsenburg, of Dalmasca!"

"Good. Now louder."

The kid yelled the phrase again and Seifer nodded his approval.

"Keep it up, until I tell you to stop," Seifer said, then gave the kid's cheek a firm pat. "Stop and you'll hang there until I feel like taking you down."

"I'm Captain Basch!"

"Oh, and next time you decide not to share important news with me," Seifer said casually. "I'll hang you from the topsail by your entrails and let the seagulls have you."

* * *

"Where is my daughter?"

Fury Caraway stared at the bounty hunter in annoyance. He had expected results, but already, a day had gone by and Rinoa was still missing. If he knew his daughter, no harm had come to her. She had gone off on her own to spite him. She had made it clear she was not at all interested in marriage, especially not to a man like Don Corneo, but thanks to Seifer Almasy, her options were limited. No, Fury was sure Rinoa had run away to spite him.

The woman before him was unfazed by his demand. She looked back at him with cool disinterest from under a fringe of pale pink hair.

"My associate is following a lead down at the docks," Lightning said. "It's likely she's no longer in the city."

Fury frowned and stood, his palms flat on the desk. "I want results. I want my daughter back."

"We'll get her back," Lightning assured him. "But first, I believe there's the matter of payment."

Money. Of course, this was about money. This bounty hunter probably knew more than she said, but held out on him because he had not yet paid her the full sum they'd agreed upon. There was no honor left in this world. First Almasy, now this woman.

"You don't get paid until my daughter is back, safe and unharmed," Fury said.

Her eyebrow shot up, but she was unimpressed by his demand. It wasn't often he met a person he was unable to intimidate, and even more seldom was it a woman. This woman was unflappable and formidable and uninterested in his hostility.

"I don't work for free."

"There are others who would be willing to find her for less," Fury bluffed. "Perhaps I should issue a city-wide bounty. Whichever miscreant brings her back to me alive will claim the prize."

"If that's what you prefer," Lighting said and crossed her arms over her chest. "However, they may bring her back alive, but I wouldn't trust she'll come back untouched. Her virtue is already in question, is it not? Some other hunters might... take advantage of certain rumors."

Fury's frown deepened. No matter what rumors had circulated, the one thing he counted on was Rinoa's continued innocence. He had no dowry to offer, therefore her virtue was the only thing he could offer Corneo. Getting her back untouched was a priority.

"Then I make that a condition of payment," Fury said. "If she comes back spoiled, no deal."

Again, Lightning was unimpressed. "If you can't at least offer me some collateral, you and I have no deal."

His hands were tied. He knew it, and so did she.

These vultures were bleeding him dry. He did have something of value left, but he was reluctant to give it up. It was a sentimental item, purchased with the utmost love an affection for his deceased wife, Julia. Nothing else he owned had any value, as he'd sold off nearly everything to pay off his debts.

He retrieved the ruby and diamond pendant from his safe and laid it out on the desk for Lightning to see. It was worth far more than the payment they had agreed upon and she stepped forward to inspect it with interest. It was worth it to up the offer. Rinoa was worth it.

It was true his daughter was a commodity, but he did love her. Enough to sacrifice the only belonging he had left that mattered.

Lightning's fingers slid over the jewel and drew it across the desk. Fury slammed his hand down on top of hers before she could pocket it.

"Bring her back alive, unharmed and unspoiled, and this is yours," he said. "Fail any one of those tasks, and you get nothing."

"That isn't collateral," she said. "I require either the gold or something I can hold onto until Rinoa is found, Caraway. Money up front, or your daughter can fend for herself."

Caraway slipped the jewel into his pocket. If she wanted to play hardball, so be it. She was not the only capable bounty hunter in the land.

"Fine, then it's open season," Caraway said. "Winner takes all."

* * *

Aboard the Lionheart, Rinoa stood in the galley with a pile of peeled potatoes in front of her. She chopped them one by one into uneven, odd shapes and dumped them into a pot. Her mind was not on the task, but on the Captain and his parting words.

_"You're off the ship as soon as we make port."_

She'd begged, but he wanted none of it. He had other problems to deal with, and as much as Rinoa wanted to plead her case, now was not the time.

She couldn't wind up in some Centran port city, alone and with only a handful of Gil to her name. She could not go home to face her father's wrath and the prospect of marriage to some creepy dilettante. That was not an acceptable outcome. She'd left to see the world, to experience life outside the dull, high-society boredom, not to wind up stranded in a strange place.

The Captain didn't understand what was a stake and he didn't seem to care. He'd dismissed her without a second glance and went off in search of First Mate Trepe.

As it turned out, Quistis was missing, and the Captain was not happy. Even worse, something of great value to him was lost. Up above, he had the crew scouring the deck for any trace of it and had already been in the Galley twice in search of it himself. What the item was, Rinoa didn't know, but it must have been a big deal.

Cinna dumped more peeled potatoes on the counter and Rinoa sighed at the ever growing pile in front of her. He peeled faster than she cut. Being little experienced with a knife, she was afraid she would cut her own fingers off if she tried to cut too fast.

Zell returned to the galley, his mouth twisted into a scowl as he spied the mountain of spuds before her, then peeked into the pot. His eye was swollen and there was a cut on his cheek, but he was in good shape compared to others.

"Um, you're going to have to cut faster than that," he said. "Gotta get the stew on or it won't be done in time."

"Sorry," she said. "Got a lot on my mind."

Zell retrieved a blade from the butcher's block and began to chop the potatoes himself. She watched the way he used the knife in awe, amazed that he still had all ten fingers.

"I'll do this," he said. "You go get me a bucket of water from the rain barrel on the deck."

"I thought we had a barrel down here."

Zell lifted his chin toward it and Rinoa only now noticed it had tipped over in all the commotion from before. She grabbed a bucket from the corner just as an angry, feminine how rose from the depths of the ship.

"RRRRAAAAAGGGEEEE!"

Rinoa froze. She stared at the doorway with wide eyes as the sound repeated. It was horrifying.

"Guess Fujin's awake," Zell said. He reached for the crate of apples and tossed one to Rinoa. "Drop that off to her before you head up."

"W-what?" she asked.

"Our prisoner. Almasy's First Mate," Zell said. "Cap'n told me to make sure to feed her when she woke up."

Rinoa blinked at him, uncomprehending.

"See, if Almasy hadn't gotten a hold of Quistis, Fujin would be fair game. Cap'n could string her up by her ankles, go days without feeding her, whatever he felt like, but the plan is to trade Fujin for Quistis, so we gotta keep her alive and in good health. Not that Almasy's gonna do the same for Quistis..."

Zell shuddered and returned his attention to the potatoes.

"...I don't want to think about that."

"You think Seifer would hurt her?"

"Seifer?" Zell asked. His brow furrowed as his gaze turned suspicious. "You say that like you're on a first name basis with him."

"Well.." she hedged. "We were supposed to be married."

"Pbbtttt," Zell uttered. "Yeah... I doubt that."

"It all turned out to be a big fat lie, but I sort of knew him. Or thought I knew him..."

She really didn't know him at all, did she? Everything he'd said to her was a lie. He was not he son of a Duke, not an heir to anything, just a smooth talking swindler who had made her like him and then had taken her father for a lot of money.

"I can't honestly say one way or another," Zell said. "She was pretty close with Almasy a few years back. I'd like to think he'd keep his hands to himself, but he'd do anything to hit Cap'n where it hurts."

"I hope he doesn't," Rinoa said.

"Quistis can take care of herself. If he hurts her, she'll hurt him back, just like the old days," Zell said. "And if she can't and Cap'n finds him, it won't be pretty."

Though she had chores to complete, Rinoa couldn't help her curiosity and Zell seemed game to indulge her in a bit of gossip.

"Are the First Mate and the Cap'n.. together?"

Zell snorted. "Not even a little bit. Cap'n lives like a monk or something. Never even seen him interested in a wench, not even the forward ones."

"Never?"

"Nope," Zell said. "All I can say is, he's either too focused on being like his mother to pay attention, not into women at all, or it's gonna take a really special one to turn his head."

"Oh," Rinoa murmured.

"And before you get any crazy ideas, don't bother," Zell said. "You are not one of his favorite people."

Rinoa didn't know why that made her heart sink, but it did. It wasn't as if she was interested. Captain Leonhart was horrible and mean and ungrateful and had the personality of an iceberg. Not her ideal, by any means.

"You should get a move on," Zell said. "Gotta get the 'taters going soon."

"Right," Rinoa said. "Maybe... the prisoner would like some of that leftover bread, too?"

Zell tossed her a piece of a crushed but still edible loaf of bread leftover from dinner and Rinoa tucked it into her pocket. He flashed her a smile and waved her off with his knife.

Down in the cargo hold, Rinoa wrinkled her nose at the briny, stale scent and picked her way through crates and barrels until she found a pair of prisoners chained to the wall with thick, iron shackles. One was a battered and unconscious man covered in tattoos. The other, a petite woman with snowy white hair and an eye patch.

Her face was a picture of rage as she spied Rinoa and she gave the shackles a hard yank.

"UNLOCK," she demanded.

"Sorry, I don't have the key," Rinoa said. Was this tiny woman really a threat?

"LIES!"

"I'm not lying," Rinoa promised. "I brought you some food."

Rinoa retrieved the apple and the bread from her pocket and set them down in front of the woman. The woman stomped the heel of her boot on the bread, then picked up the apple and whipped it at Rinoa's face. Rinoa cried out as it hit her.

"Ouch!" Rinoa cried. "Meanie!"

Fujin rattled her chains and strained as far away from the wall as she could get. She took a swipe at Rinoa and barely missed the front of Rinoa's dress. Rinoa jumped back and bent down to pick up the apple. Instead of giving it back, she placed in the lap of the tattooed man. At least someone might enjoy it.

"RAAAAAAAGE!"

"You didn't want it," Rinoa said.

Fujin howled and rattled her chains as Rinoa backed away. Though the woman had assaulted her, Rinoa felt sorry for the situation she was in. It would be horrible to be chained up in the smelly, damp cargo hold of an enemy's ship and subject to Hyne knew what kind of punishment. She might be bound for some unknown port herself, but while she was still aboard, she would make sure Fujin was not treated with unkindness.

She returned to the deck and tapped a rain barrel to fill the bucket for Zell. All around her, the troops overturned and moved boxes in search of the lost item. The breeze was stiff and she stopped for a moment to tie her hair back away from her face, then returned her focus on the bucket.

Full of water, the bucket was heavy. She lugged it across the deck toward the hatch and tried not to slosh water over the sides.

The Captain stepped right into her path with a length of rope slung over his shoulder and Rinoa collided with him with an "oof!" Both fell to the deck in a tangle of arms and legs, just as the contents of the bucket spilled over them.

Oh. No. Not again.

Rinoa struggled to right herself, but the Captain's upper body, along with most of the rope, was slung halfway across hers. The Captain lifted himself off and stared down at her with a dark expression that was not as angry as Rinoa anticipated. He was more bewildered than anything, but Rinoa lay there, wide eyed and prayed that he wasn't about to really kill her this time.

"It's not my fault!" she blurted out. "You walked right into me!"

He stared at her, wordlessly for a moment and Rinoa wondered if she shouldn't just throw herself overboard now and be done with it.

"Your lip is bleeding," he said.

"What?"

He didn't repeat himself. Instead, he reached out and touched a fingertip to her bottom lip. It came back red with blood and Rinoa remembered the apple.

"The prisoner apparently isn't a fan of apples," she said.

"She's lucky she gets anything."

"I'd be upset too, if I were her..."

It only occurred to Rinoa then that they were both still on deck, the Captain propped above her but still partially pressed against her. All he did was stare. Rinoa was terrified but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his. He swallowed hard and sat all the way up, a flicker of confusion in his face before it resettled into his former mask of cold indifference.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Rinoa."

"You should go back below deck, Rinoa," he said. "Before you accidentally fall overboard and drown."

* * *

Quistis woke as something slapped lightly at her cheek. She lifted her hand to swat away whatever it was, but her arm was stopped short by something heavy and cool around her wrist. The clank of chains and a bark of familiar laughter told her all she needed to know. She'd been captured.

She blinked away her bleary vision and focused on the handsome but ruthless man before her. Seifer had not changed much since the last time she'd seen him, except that he was dressed far more flamboyantly. A pale, off-white brocade jacket and dark blue silk tunic gave him the appearance of a man who enjoyed luxury. It was a good look for him. Yet Quistis knew Seifer's tastes far exceeded his stash of gold. She wondered what lord or dignitary he'd robbed to get it.

"Hello, Quistis," he said. "Fancy meeting you here."

"What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things."

Quistis rolled her eyes. Of course he did. Seifer had always dreamed far bigger than made sense. This ship, for example, was the product of a young man who thought he could do better than those with more experience. It was one of the things she'd loved about him, and also the thing that had driven them apart.

"I missed you," he said.

"Get to the point, Almasy," she said. "You're not going to charm me."

"Well, that's a shame, because I have a proposition for you."

"I'm not changing sides, so don't bother."

He slid a hand over her hair and then down the side of her face. His touch was gentle, almost loving and the look on his face was as un-hostile as she'd ever seen him.

"See, we have a problem," Seifer said. "Leonhart has my first mate, and I want her back. But, I think I'd like to keep you, too."

Quistis couldn't help but laugh. "Keep me? Do you think I'm a pet?"

"Right now, you're my hostage," he said. "But, think about it Quis. You and me and these."

He lifted his hand to show her the thick ring of heavy keys, each with an ornately carved lion head on it. Squall's keys.

"Where did you get those?"

"Now, now, don't go asking questions I'm sure you already know the answer to," he said. "The point is, you and I could do great things together. Join me and I'll split the treasure with you, fifty-fifty."

"And what about your crew?" she wondered.

"They don't deserve a single Gil as far as I'm concerned," he said. "Well, maybe one or two of them deserve a little something, but the rest of them, no."

"Keep that attitude up and you'll find yourself trying to sail all alone," Quistis said.

Seifer brushed his thumb over her chin and leaned in closer. He smelled like brine and spice and far too appealing for his own good.

"You and me," he insisted. "It isn't an option."

"You plan to make me?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips next to her ear. "Yes."

"And how, exactly, do you think you can?"

"Well, you can either marry me," he said. "Or, next time I see your friends, I won't bother to engage, I'll just light the whole damn ship on fire, crack open a bottle of mead and watch it go up in flames."

* * *

Notes: Seifer is never going to remember Yuna's name. She's Seifer's Nida. Heh. And, by reader request...Lightning.


	6. Chapter 6

Balthier stood beside Fran on a street in the northernmost port in Centra. It was a place without a name, but the narrow cobblestone paths were teeming with people, most of them fishermen and merchants on their way to and from the docks. There were a scattering of young men and women with push carts that offered food and small wares like jewelry and personal items as well, and pretty girls that beckoned men into taverns with the promise of the best cup of ale on the continent and perhaps more, though Balthier knew this was mostly a tease. The girls were for show, which suited him fine.

At his side, Fran wrinkled her nose at the overwhelming perfume of fish, brine and earth, and she cast a cool glance at the weapon seller before them and his shoddy wares. The man couldn't take his eyes off her.

"He's late," she said. "I do not think he is coming."

"He'll be here," Balthier said. "Spirans are notorious for their lack of respect for punctuality."

"I know him," she said. "He is never late. I am concerned."

"Now, now, Frannie," Balthier said as he eyed a nearby spirit vendor. The bottles of jewel colored liquid called to him. "Perhaps a cup of wine to pass the time?"

"No. You will not drink until we have had this meeting."

"You are lucky that I am so fond of you," Balthier said with a smile.

"Even a leading man needs wise counsel from time to time," Fran said.

A figure in red pushed through the crowd, his eyes hidden behind strange, dark framed glasses. At his hip was a massive sword. Their contact.

"You are late," Fran scolded gently. "It does not speak well of you, Auron."

"My apologies. We must go."

The pair followed Auron down a debris strewn alleyway and into the back door of a pub. Inside were barrels of wine and bottles of liquor, bags of sugar and flour, and an assortment of items that were of no interest to Balthier.

"You have information," Fran said to Auron.

"Rinoa Caraway, daughter of Fury Caraway, is missing," Auron said. "He offers a jewel of exceptional value in exchange for her safe return."

"She was kidnapped," Fran said.

"She was last spotted boarding a ship bound for Centra," Auron said. "Of her own free will."

"A runaway," Balthier mused. "In my experience, it would be wiser to steal the jewel. Wayward girls don't ever seem to want to return to the fold."

"What was the ship called?" Fran asked.

"The _Lionheart,_ " Auron said. "There is a good chance it will dock in this port within a day. Leonhart seeks the gold of Griever."

"Don't we all?" Balthier mused.

The wheels in Balthier's head began to turn. The _Lionheart_ was known throughout the world, and its respective captains quest for the lost treasure legend among pirates of all kinds. Perhaps the jewel Caraway offered was valuable, but it was rumored Captain Squall Leonhart was in possession of an item of even greater value and one that gave him a greater chance of acquiring said treasure than any other pirate on the sea.

This job might prove to be exceptionally profitable if they played their cards right. At stake was the prized daughter of an aristocrat and more treasure than Balthier could wrap his mind around. It was risky. It was brash. Stupid, even, but the lure of lining his pockets with gold and jewels was too great to deny. Never mind, the leading man always saved the girl...

"There must be a catch," Fran said.

"She must be returned unharmed, with her virtue intact," Auron said.

"Ladies who consort with sea pirates do not keep their innocence long."

"Perhaps not," Auron said. "However, Captain Leonhart is known for his honor, not for sullying the virtue of innocent women."

"That does not mean she is safe."

"Have some respect for a fellow gentleman, Frannie," Balthier said. "We're not all lecherous savages."

"Speak for yourself," she said. She turned to him, her amber eyes cool. "This girl must be found before it is too late. I do not trust these pirates. Honor or not."

Well, wasn't this going to be fun?

* * *

"I'm not going to marry you," Quistis said. "Have you lost your mind?"

Nonplussed, Seifer sat back on his heels and thumbed the keys in his hand. It was less a romantic interest than it was a tactical decision, but he was dead serious about it. It would hit Leonhart where it hurt and would give Seifer a leg up on his competition. The keys were a coup, but Quistis cooperation would be a deathblow.

"It's business," Seifer said. "Leonhart won't have any claim on you."

"That's not business, it's personal, and I'm not going to get involved in your little spat," Quistis swore. "If you want Fujin back, return me. Otherwise, she'll be dancing the hempen jig before sunrise."

Leonhart wouldn't risk Quistis. Fujin was safe for now. No harm would come to her, so long as Leonhart knew Quistis was safe.

"Even if I wanted to marry you, which I _don't_ , you would never, ever have any claim on me," she spat back. "As if that's even a remote possibility."

She was going to be difficult. Seifer hadn't expected anything else and he smiled at the fire in her normally cool eyes. He dragged a hand over her hair and combed his fingers through the long ends. He'd always loved her hair, even when it was a tangled, wind-blown, blood-streaked mess like it was now. Especially then.

"That's a shame," he said. "Now I'm going to have to take drastic measures and I would much rather have you as an ally than an enemy."

Quistis laughed without humor and shook her head in disgust.

"You have a barely patched hole in your hull," Quistis said. "I can feel the draft from here. How in Hyne's name do you plan on taking drastic measures? By row boat?"

"You let me worry about that," Seifer said. "I'll let you think about my offer for a while. I'm sure you'll come to your senses."

"I'm not the one making foolish decisions," Quistis said. "You stuck a target on your own back."

"Wrong," he promised. His thumb grazed over her bottom lip and something in her eyes softened. "You and me, we're going to be filthy, disgustingly rich at the end of all this. Better to choose the side that wins in the end, right?"

"You won't win, Seifer," she said. "I know you believe yourself some prodigy of a sea captain but you don't know the first thing about what to do when things get tough."

"Wrong again," he murmured, leaned in and took her face in his hands. "I grew up the same way you did. I know the sea. And unlike Leonhart, I _want_ this. I want _you_."

It was cruel to acknowledge her unrequited and misplaced feelings for Squall, but it was to Seifer's advantage to use it. Her blue eyes turned to steel to hide the hurt his words caused, but so be it. She could not afford to live in a fantasy world where Squall saw her as more than anything but a damned good first mate.

Seifer had always seen the potential for more. Quistis would be a good captain in her own right, if given the chance. She was the overlooked prodigy, the one who had truly deserved command of the _Lionheart_ , and no one but Seifer had seen it. He would have gladly been her first mate if she'd been chosen instead.

But Squall?

Never.

"We had a good thing going, didn't we?" Seifer asked. "You and me?"

"You were a substitute," she said frostily. "I used you."

"I'm sure the substitute was better than the real thing," he said cockily. "Don't you dare lie and say you _really_ believe he'd ever make you feel as good as I did."

Quistis inhaled sharply and looked away from him.

"I don't love you," she said. "I never loved you."

"Don't fool yourself, Trepe. This isn't about love. It's about lots and _lots_ of gold and I know damn well that's more important to you," he said. "Enough gold and you could buy your own ship, your own crew. Wasn't that always your dream?"

She said nothing for almost a full minute. Seifer thought she might cry, but eventually, she looked up at him with cool, calm blue eyes that were nonetheless shrewed and calculating.

"I'll make you a deal," she said. "I'll marry you, but we captain this ship together, and you _will_ defer to me in the event of an attack or extenuating circumstances."

Seifer scoffed. "As if -"

"Agree, or no deal."

"Trepe-"

Quistis cut him off.

"Face it, you are rash and impulsive and you let your heart rule your head," she said. "You engaged a ship with full artillery, outnumbered against more experienced fighters, with a crew that doesn't know bow from stern. Now you've got a hole in your boat, no one knowledgeable enough to replace your lost first mate, and your crew had to carry you off the _Lionheart_ like a green deckhand."

He held up Griever's keys and dangled them in front of her face.

"Yet I still managed to get a hold of these. And you."

"So what? You let your big ego get in the way of logic. You put your entire crew and your livelihood in danger," she said. "It was just sheer luck that you got away alive."

"But I did," he said. "And now I'm richer than I was before."

Quistis looked him over, her expression betraying nothing but cold, cool professionalism.

"Agree to my terms or no deal."

Seifer weighed his options. It was true he sometimes found himself in dire straights because of his impulsive choices, but just as often, he found himself with an unexpected windfall because he dared take a chance on a long shot. Had he not engaged the _Lionheart_ , the other ship would have half a day on them by now. He could justify the loss, and his impulsiveness because of what he had gained.

"All right," he said. "I agree."

Quistis had not expected him to call her bluff. She played her own game, just as any good pirate would, and Seifer was aware it wasn't out of loyalty or romantic attachment that she offered her terms. He would have been an utter fool to believe Quistis Trepe was without her own agenda.

Her surprise dragged a chuckle from him and he leaned in, kissed her on the lips and counted another victory for the crew of the Hyperion.

"You can unlock me now," she said.

Seifer grinned as he sat back on his heels. He was rash and impulsive, but he wasn't stupid.

"Maybe later," he said. "Welcome aboard, Captain Trepe."

* * *

Squall's keys were gone.

Quistis was gone.

Squall was adrift without a lifeboat with the two most important parts of his command missing. Worse, the mainsail was torn and they would not be able to chase Almasy down to retrieve the stolen items until the sail was fixed.

He stood at the helm beside Nida, his hands wrapped around the ornate wooden rail and stared angrily at the dark cobalt sea. They'd won the skirmish with Almasy, but had come out losers in the end. He could only hope that his keys had wound up on the bottom of the ocean rather than in Almasy's possession.

The second that girl had stepped onto his ship, everything had gone wrong. The sooner he was rid of her, the better. She was bad luck. A bad omen, and the only way to turn things around was to get off his ship before she sank it.

He frowned to himself as he thought of the time they'd lost. Almasy had hours on him, and with a stop in Centra, hours could become days. There was only one thing still working in his favor: Almasy didn't know where to look.

"Cap'n, we should make Centra by sundown," Nida informed him. "Winds are in our favor."

Squall didn't need Nida to tell him that. He was well versed in all things maritime, and he'd come to that conclusion on his own, but he nodded his agreement and stepped away from the helm.

He climbed the mast to the crow's nest, in need of solitude to clear his head. The wind was strong and less briny up high, but still carried with it the scent of the sea. Inside the small bucket shaped structure, he sat and closed his eyes and tried to will himself calm.

Raine Leonhart would never have allowed both her first mate and her keys to be taken from her. She never would have allowed the crew of another ship to board hers. Any attempt would have been met with fierce and swift retaliation, the opposing force driven back and their ship laid to waste. For all her calm, wise council, she had never tolerated usurpers.

Almasy had been a minor threat on Squall's radar. An annoyance more than anything, but Squall had severely underestimated Almasy's tenacity. The man did not respect or fear the forces that any ship Captain with a brain had the good sense to be wary of. Almasy didn't fear the sea and her tempestuous moods. He didn't fear the wrath of a rival, an angry merchant, or even the rope. He did not respect the waves or the wind or even the ship that carried him across the seas. Not his crew, his betters or those with more resources.

It was bold and dangerous of him to take a gamble the way he had, and Squall was forced to give grudging respect to Almasy's willingness to risk everything to get ahead. Even if his victory hit Squall where it hurt, Squall was not so cocky that he couldn't acknowledge he'd been bested.

Of course, that meant next time they crossed paths, Squall would pay Almasy back in kind. There would be no mercy for the man who had once been the closest thing to a brother Squall had known.

Sibling Rivalry was a cold hearted bitch. Squall had forgotten that fact, but Almasy hadn't.

He touched his fingertips to the stitches in his forehead and thought of the girl who had tended his wound instead of the man who had given it to him.

Rinoa.

Why had he asked her name? He didn't care who she was or where she'd come from. He couldn't be rid of her soon enough and knowing her name did him no good.

As if thinking about her had called her forth, her head appeared at the opening of the crow's nest, her brow furrowed with concentration as she struggled to pull herself inside.

She landed at his feet with a grunt, and he pulled his knees toward his chest to allow her room.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"I -"

"You don't belong up here."

"I needed space," she said. "I didn't know you were here."

He expected her to climb back down and seek refuge elsewhere, but she gathered her skirts in one hand and sat down across from him and stretched her legs out. Squall huffed in annoyance as he watched her arrange the dress to cover herself and wondered why he hadn't just tossed her over the side in the first place. It would have saved him a lot of trouble in the long run.

"You shouldn't be up here. It isn't safe."

"Well, too late now," she said. "I don't think I'm going to get back down on my own. It's a lot higher than I thought it was."

Perfect. Just perfect. If he ever expected to get her off his ship, he was probably going to have to carry her down, and the last thing he wanted was her in his personal space again. The way his luck was going, she would trip over her own feet, fall and he would be dumb enough to try and catch her and they'd both fall to their deaths.

"Damn it," he muttered.

Squall let his head rest against the heel of his palm, closed his eyes and tried to pretend she wasn't there. If she kept her mouth shut, he might convince himself he was alone up here, but whatever peace he'd hoped to find here was ruined.

"If you've come to try and convince me to change my mind, it's not going to work," he said. "You've already caused enough trouble."

"I saved your life," she said. "That has to count for something."

"You'll be compensated once we reach port," he said.

"Compensated?" she asked. "You mean you're going to throw some gold my way to get rid of me. What am I supposed to do in Centra? I don't even speak Centran!"

"Not my problem," he said. "You're lucky I didn't cut your throat for getting in the way."

"Because you were handling him just fine on your own?" she returned. "He was about to kill you! If I hadn't intervened, this wouldn't even be your ship anymore."

Hyne, what a pain in the ass. She had a point, but he wasn't about to concede it. Saving his life didn't make up for all the trouble she'd caused.

"I'm not going to change my mind," he said. He pushed to his feet, shook off his anger and turned toward her. Brown eyes implored him to have mercy, to let her stay. "Don't look at me like that. It's for your own good. And _mine_."

He grasped the hand hold to descend the mast as she stood and looked over the lip of the bucket. Her face paled and she bit her lip.

"It didn't look so high from the deck," she said.

"I'm not carrying you," he said.

He began his descent, but the sound of her gasp broke his focus and he looked back up at her face. Her hand lifted and pointed toward the water.

"What in Hyne's name is that?!"

* * *

Rinoa hadn't been lying when she said she wasn't sure she could get down on her own. Going up had been a breeze, but looking down as the ship swayed beneath her, she doubted she could manage without falling. Apparently, she didn't fear heights until she was already too high up to change her mind.

Below the ship, a huge, dark shadow passed through the slate-blue water. It was difficult to make out what it could be, even in the late afternoon light, but it was massive.

Long tendrils curled away from it, twisting like coils of smoke beneath the water. There were too many to count. One long reddish-orange tentacle breeched the surface, whacked the side of the ship, then slipped back under the waves, only to reappear on the other side of the ship.

The Captain cursed, looked up at her and returned to the crow's nest. He grabbed hold of a small horn made of bone and blew it. Everything below stopped, the crew froze in their activities and looked up, then scrambled to prepare for what was coming. The sound of an alarm echoed from the deck, and the Captain offered Rinoa his hand.

"What is that?" she demanded. "What is that thing?"

"Kraken," he said. "We need to get down."

The ship pitched forward, then rolled to the side as the shadow undulated beneath them. Rinoa lost her balance, fell into the side of the bucket and nearly toppled over the edge. The only thing that prevented her was the Captain's firm grip on her wrist.

His gaze was dark but calm. He cursed to himself, pulled her toward him and swept her up over his shoulder. Rinoa gave a shriek of surprise as she anticipated being tossed into the sea, and she wrapped her arms around his chest in case that was his plan. If she was going to die, he was going with her, whether he liked it or not.

"Put me down!" she said. "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

"Don't move," he warned as he began his descent. "Don't let go. And shut up."

As if she had any intention of letting go. Even upside down, slung over his shoulder like she was a naughty tavern wench, with blood rushing to her head and a perfect view of some sinister sea monster's shadow beneath the waves, Rinoa would hang on for dear life because she did not want him to throw her overboard to appease the angry tentacle creature. She had a feeling, if that would make it go away, the Captain would gladly sacrifice her to the sea gods.

He descended the mast quicker than Rinoa anticipated, and he set her on her feet, just as a wall of water smashed into the port side. It cascaded over them and the ship listed into the swell. Rinoa was drenched in an instant and so was the Captain.

"You should go below deck," he said.

"I'm not going below deck," she said. "No way."

"Suit yourself," he said. "Just don't be surprised if it decides to make a meal of you."

The Captain grimaced, turned away from her and sounded the alarm a second time. Rinoa was forgotten as the crew began to move about the deck, weapons at the ready.

"Tilmitt, cannons," the Captain ordered. "Xu, ready the harpoon."

"Sir!" Xu said.

"Woohoo!" Selphie cried. "Kablooey!"

Rinoa watched, feeling useless. Everyone seemed to have a job. The sails were dropped to avoid damage, and she saw equipment moved about the deck as the seas grew rough as though they'd found themselves in a storm.

Everyone on board was ready for a fight, except for Rinoa.

Well, if they could fight, Rinoa could fight too.

Or die trying.

After all, death by sea monster was a much more exciting end than s _tarved to death in a Centran sea port_.

Rinoa lumbered and skidded across the deck as the ship continued to rock in the uneven waves and she dropped into the hatch to go below deck for the weapon she'd claimed for herself. She scurried down the ladder and sprinted into the galley, where she retrieved the strange weapon her cubby. She strapped it to her wrist, secured it and then locked the projectile into place.

It wasn't a sword, or a gun or a cannon, but it had proved effective enough to hurt a grown man. Maybe it wouldn't make a bit of difference against a sea monster, but she had nothing to lose by trying.

Back on deck, a tentacle shot across the wood and wound up around one of the masts. Rinoa watched in awe as several of the crew surrounded it and chopped wildly at the slimy, creepy limb. Beyond, in the sea, a bulbous protrusion pushed up through the waves, and Rinoa caught a glimpse of a huge eye and a beak-like shape on what must have been the head of the sea creature.

It was like the drawings of octopus Rinoa had seen in books, but uglier. It was nearly as large as the _Lionheart_ , and obviously capable of sinking the ship with ease if it got its arms around anything significant.

A blast of canon fire made the Kraken release the mast, and its tentacle slithered past her, caught hold of a stack of barrels on its way back to the sea and toppled them across the deck.

Rinoa jumped out to the way to avoid the sweep of another suction-cupped arm, and she scrambled toward the bow as the specter of Laguna swung past on a rope. The ghost laughed gleefully, his sword held aloft as though he planned to fight the Kraken along side the rest.

Something cold, wet and slimy latched around Rinoa's ankle and she was dragged to the ground as it gripped her and pulled. She shrieked, thrashed for something to hold onto but the tentacle tightened and slid further up her calf.

It was _so gross._

She screamed as she tried to kick herself free of its grip, shuddering from both disgust and fear as it snaked over her skin. It was the absolute worst thing she'd ever felt in her whole life, and she wanted it off her before it dragged her into the sea.

Above her, Laguna continued to swing and laugh and sang the words to a song Rinoa only half recognized. Beneath her the ship swayed, and the creature pulled her closer and closer to the edge. In a panic, she twisted around and sat up, her dress up around her waist, and she fired her weapon into the meat of the tentacle.

It severed, and fluid and blood splashed over her leg as the tentacle began to flail on the deck. The section wrapped around her calf tightened, then released and Rinoa shot to her feet, flailed until it let go and fumbled back and away from the injured and severed appendage.

Near the bow, the Captain dodged another of the Kraken's many arms and stumbled backward as the ship lurched on rough seas. A wave crashed over the deck, knocked him off his feet and Rinoa braced herself as a wall of water sluiced over her. She wiped soaked strands of hair from her eyes as she searched for him, fearful that he'd been washed overboard.

He rolled away from another attack and shot to his feet as three separate tentacles wound over the deck. All three slithered toward him and cornered him near the rail. He was trapped. If the tentacles didn't get him, the next time the ship listed to the side, he was in danger of falling overboard. Rinoa had to help him. Even if he couldn't stand her, even if he planned to dump her off at port, even if he had threatened multiple times to do terrible things, she could not in good conscience let him die this way.

Selphie cried out in excitement as a blast of cannon fire rang out. The Kraken was struck in the head and it shrieked in anger, dipped below the surface and there was a sudden and hard thump underneath Rinoa's feet.

"Booyaka!" Selphie shouted. "Load up another, Irvy! We're having calamari for dinner."

"I do love me some calamari," Irvine agreed.

Rinoa didn't know what calamari was, and now was not the time to contemplate it. She jumped out of the way as a tentacle crashed down onto the deck beside her and swept across it. Forced to grab hold of a rope to avoid being knocked to the ground or taken to the sea with all the debris, Rinoa was flung toward the bow as the ship rolled. She hung on tight and squeezed her eyes shut, sure she was about to be flung into the water, where she would drown or be eaten by the Kraken.

On deck below her, the Captain struggled as a tentacle wrapped itself around his chest and neck. He clawed at it, but it only squeezed tighter. His face went pink, then red and his eyes bulged as he tried and failed to draw breath.

Rinoa aimed her weapon at him and pulled the trigger. The projectile sliced into the tendril wrapped around the Captain's chest and cut it wide open. It spasmed and released him as Rinoa swung back and away from him, but then reasserted its grip on him, lifted him into the air and toward its beak.

"Oh no you don't," Rinoa said.

She grabbed hold of the mast as she swung past it, then pushed off in the direction of the hostage. Fortune was on her side as gravity and the momentum of the waves carried her further than she expected and she crashed into the creature's retreating tentacle and latched on. She wrapped her arms and legs around it, and pulled herself inch by inch toward the Captain. The Captain's eyes rolled toward her as he tried in vain to free himself.

"Hang on," Rinoa swore. "I'll get you free. Just hang on, okay?"

She scooted as close as she could get, pressed her weapon against the tentacle and pulled the trigger.

At such close range, the projectile sliced straight through it. Behind her, the creature shrieked in agony, as Xu's harpoon speared into its neck, and it released the Captain.

Rinoa reached out to grab him, caught hold of his coat as he sucked in an audible breath.

 

"You're okay," she swore and his arm snaked around her waist, just as the two plummeted straight into the sea.


	7. Chapter 7

Squall hit the water hard. He plunged beneath the choppy surface and his breath was nearly stolen away by both the impact and the chill. It was perfect dark all around, and it was difficult to tell which way was up without light to guide him.

He allowed a few bubbles to escape his lips to help determine the direction of the surface. Up was the direction his feet were pointing. He righted himself, saw small flickers of light above him and fought against the current that insisted on pulling him further downward.

When he broke the surface, the Kraken gave an eerie, howl-moan of pain and thrashed its damaged appendages against the water and the sides of the ship. Choppy waves rose up around it, and Squall was buffeted back and forth and was nearly pushed under again as one slammed into his back.

"FIRE!" Selphie cried from above. A burst of smoke, a ball of flame, and the Kraken's wail of pain grew louder. "Again, Irvy!"

Squall looked around for Rinoa, but she had not surfaced nearby. He turned in a circle and tentatively called out her name, not too loud, but loud enough that if she was nearby, she would hear him.

_I can't swim._

Whatever. It wasn't his problem.

He kicked toward the ship, struggling through the sloppy, uneven waves and called up for someone to drop a rope. Zell and Nida peered down at him from above.

"Rin with you?" Zell called.

Damn it.

"No," Squall called back. "Lost her somewhere."

"Over there!" Nida shouted.

Squall muttered a curse under his breath and turned to where Nida was pointing. Just beneath the surface, something white and almost ghostly shifted in the churning current. He kicked toward it, and saw Rinoa, eyes closed, slowly sinking as the tides pulled her under.

He gritted his teeth and dove under. In the relative darkness, and with salt stinging his eyes, Squall could barely make her out, but he followed, kicking as hard as he could toward the drifting shape under the waves.

She wasn't conscious. Even if she couldn't swim, she would have fought her way to the surface, driven by instinct to save herself. There was no time to debate with himself about whether it was worth the effort to save her or not, but he knew it was bad luck not to return the favor. And the way his luck ran lately, she would probably come back and haunt him.

That thought alone was enough to keep him from abandoning her. Squall needed another spirit following him around like he needed a hole in his gut.

His fingers caught hold of her dress, and he pulled her toward him, even as a surge in the current tried to suck the both of them further under. He kicked harder, but gained no ground as he tried to pull them both back toward the surface.

Forced to let go to save himself, Squall broke through the waves, sucked in a deep breath and took hold of the rope that had been let down and dove again. She was even further and deeper now, the tide taking her away from the ship. He kicked as hard as he could toward her pale figure, even as he wondered if it was too late.

After what felt an eternity, his breath running low, Squall reached her, took hold of her arm with both hands and felt something sharp and painful slice into the meat of his palms. He lost half his breath in shock and was forced to return to the surface for air once more.

He took a deep breath and dove again. The salt water both soothed and irritated his wounded hands, and even in the darkness, he could see trails of blood in the water as he kicked his way toward the unconscious bad luck charm.

This time, he caught hold of her ankle, pulled her toward him and wrapped one arm around her waist, and with fumbling hands, managed to secure the rope around her. He wound himself through it a few times, then held on and gave the rope a sharp tug.

They breeched the surface just as the Kraken gave a roar of anger and the crew on deck gave a cheer. The Kraken's tentacles flailed, smashed into the water nearby, and Squall braced himself for the surge in the waves as it slipped beneath the surface, presumably to go nurse its wounds as Squall planned to do once he was back on deck.

Zell threw down a rope ladder, and Squall threw the unconscious girl over his shoulders, looped the rope attached to her waist around his chest so that she was secure enough for him to climb unhindered. He ignored the burning pain in his palms, but saw the dark stains left on the hempen rope as he climbed. He didn't stop. Not until they were both back on deck, the ship rocking in the wake of the retreating Kraken.

He dumped Rinoa on deck, dropped down beside her pale shape and pressed a pair of fingers to her throat. A faint, thready heartbeat pulsed beneath his fingertips.

Too relieved for his own good that her heart still beat, Squall turned her on her side and forced the water from her lungs. At first, nothing happened, just a trickle spilled from her lips, but she drew no breath. He tried again, felt her convulse, then cough and she expelled gallons of seawater onto the deck, drew in a sharp breath and coughed up more.

Squall sat back on his heels and peered down at her to insure there were no serious injuries to be tended to. He saw nothing of concern, but she'd begun to shiver violently from the chill. He was cold to the bone himself, but he didn't have the luxury of letting it show. A glance around showed several of his crew had been injured in the attack.

"How close to port are we?" Squall asked Xu as he stood.

"Less than two hours," she said as she pressed a bandage to a wound on her forehead.

"Drop anchor," he said. "Double the night watch, and have all able bodied crew assess and repair damage."

"Aye," Xu said. Her eyes fell on the semi-conscious Rinoa at Squall's feet. "Shall I get Selphie to tend to her?"

Squall shook his head. In his gut was a weird surge of protective obligation because she'd come to his rescue twice.

"I'll handle it," he said. "Have Selphie and Irvine stay near the cannons, in case it comes back."

Xu's eyebrow shot up, as if to say,  _Yeah, I bet you will,_ but she didn't comment. Squall was glad for the relative darkness and the chill, as it covered the warmth that spread over his cheeks as he bent down and lifted Rinoa into his arms.

* * *

Rinoa woke to warmth and amber light from a nearby fireplace. She struggled free of the too tight blankets tucked all around her. The last thing she remembered was the ice cold sea surrounding her, the light fading and something dark and serpentine moving toward her beneath the waves.

She'd been certain she would die, that the Captain would abandon her to save himself. She'd lost her breath and swallowed the sea...

Yet, here she was in his quarters, in his bed and for the second time, couldn't recall how she'd gotten there.

He sat on the other side of the room, his face lathered with shave cream and frowned into the mirror before him. The hand that held the razor was heavily bandaged, and his frustration was clear. He was having difficulty with this task, but he was determined. Rinoa watched as he angled the blade this way and that without success.

"It's dark out," she said stupidly as she stared at the porthole next to the bed.

His eyes fell on her for an instant before they returned to the mirror as if he agreed that her statement was insanely dumb.

"Why are you shaving now? What time is it?"

He ignored her questions and angled the blade against this chin. He swore, tossed the blade aside and began to unravel the bandages around his hands and wrists.

"It's the middle of the night," she said. "And what happened to your hands?"

Bandages removed, both his palms were sliced wide open and in need of stitching. Rinoa sat up further and pushed the blankets away from her, only to discover, she wasn't fully dressed. Actually, she wasn't dressed at all, unless she counted the thin tunic that obviously belonged to a man. She covered herself with the sheet, but had a bad feeling he'd already seen far too much already.

He nodded his head toward her weapon, which lay on the far side of the table. In the weak light, the blade of the projectile looked terribly sharp and dangerous.

"I didn't hit you by accident, did I?" she wondered, for fear she'd unintentionally injured him again.

"No," he said. "For once, it wasn't your fault."

Rinoa wanted to be indignant, but her bigger concern was where her clothes had gone. She spied her petticoat and shift laid out to dry in front of the fire and breathed a sigh of relief. Then, a hot blush crept over her cheeks as she realized he'd seen her in her underthings. Mortified, she wrapped herself in the sheet and padded across the room to gather her clothing.

"I kept my eyes closed," he said as he inspected his shredded palms. "And my hands to myself."

Rinoa wasn't sure why she was more offended that he  _hadn't_  looked than she'd been when she thought he had. He was a pirate. Wasn't he supposed to be an unapologetic fiend? Wasn't he supposed to be a ruthless savage?

Not that she wished to be attacked or stared at while she was unconscious and vulnerable, but she found it strange that he barely even looked her in the eye, let alone at the rest of her.

_Well I'll be damned. He's shy. A shy pirate._

It was almost too cute for words. Cute because, though the shave cream hid most of his cheeks, the tops of his ears burned bright red. She'd made a big, scary pirate blush. That felt like some kind of victory and she had to hide her smile behind her hand, lest he think she was laughing at him. She doubted he'd appreciate that much.

"Um, thanks. I guess."

"I'll turn around so you can get dressed."

He swiveled his chair so that he faced the opposite wall, and Rinoa hastily pulled on her petticoat. She frowned at the tear that ran from hem to mid thigh and supposed she was lucky she had anything to wear at all. How embarrassing it was going to be, leaving his quarters in this state, though. Everyone would think the worst.

And somehow, that thought was more titillating than scandalous. Not because she wanted her reputation damaged, to a degree, it already was, thanks to one Seifer Almasy, but because apparently, it might ruin  _his_.

Rinoa suppressed another giggle as she held up her shift and saw that it was too badly damaged to be of use. She cast it aside and pulled his tunic back on, pulled her dress over her head and tied the sash at the waist. When she turned around, the Captain still stared stonily at the opposite wall, his jaw clenched and his posture stiff from either embarrassment or pain.

"So, why are you shaving at this hour?" she asked as she wandered toward the table.

"Sun's up in an hour. We'll be going ashore as soon as we make port."

"I suppose there's a lot to do to prepare for that," she said agreeably.

He held the razor out, an unspoken question in his eyes as he turned toward her. Rinoa let out a scoffing laugh of disbelief at his silent request.

"You want me to help you shave?" she asked doubtfully.

"Please."

Rinoa didn't hold back her laughter this time. She grinned as she took the razor blade from his hand and held it up to the light.

"I kicked you in the shin, nearly knocked you overboard and hit you with a frying pan," she said. "And you're trusting me to hold a razor to your face?"

He almost smiled. Almost.

"I wouldn't ask if I had another option."

"Okay," she said, "but I've never done this before, and I can't promise I won't accidentally cause you bodily harm."

"I'll take my chances."

"If I cut you, no threats of keelhauling or throwing me over the side or any other murderous activity," she said. "This one is on you."

"Agreed."

Gingerly, she took the razor from him and moved the bowl of warm water, a small mirror on a stand and a pair of towels so that she had easy access to them. His eyes followed her wordlessly and for the first time since she'd met him, he seemed really uncertain. Not the uncertainty that often came with his annoyance, but genuine concern. No doubt because he'd entrusted his handsome face to the clumsiest girl on the ship.

"Sit forward," she said.

He obeyed and she draped one of the towels over his chest and shoulders and chewed her lip, unsure of where to begin. Beneath her feet, the ship listed to the side unexpectedly and she grabbed hold of the table to steady herself. Water sloshed in the bowl and splashed across the table.

Perhaps this wasn't a good idea. Perhaps it was something that could and should wait until the seas calmed.

"I thought we'd be at port by now," she said.

"We dropped anchor just off the coast," he said. "We'll make landfall after sunrise."

Rinoa had never shaved a man's face before, but she'd loved to watch her father when she was a girl. It had been fascinating and funny to her that men were expected to do this daily, and the sight of her father lathered with cream from ear to ear had been hilarious. She remembered once or twice, her father had lathered her cheeks too, much to her caregiver's chagrin, and he had given her a butter knife to mimic his razor. She would follow his motions, pulling the dull blade down over her cheek, but she delighted most in rinsing the cream from the blade and the way it floated in the bowl like little fluffy white clouds...

The memory of better times made her long for the days when her father wasn't such an impossible tyrant. He'd been stern but kind until her mother had died. After that, he was cold and distant and treated her like property. Well, she wasn't anyone's property now and she was no longer something he could barter away to pay down his increasing debts.

She blinked away these thoughts to find the Captain studying her. No expression betrayed his thoughts but there was curiosity in his steely eyes and she was certain she'd given herself away. She was sure he had seen her sadness turn to resolve but if he wanted to know what was on her mind, he didn't ask.

Rinoa took the razor in hand and focused on her task. The ship listed to the left and this time, she grabbed the captain's shoulder to steady herself before she wound up in a heap on the floor.

How in the world was she supposed to do this without cutting him?

She contemplated this predicament, then shrugged to herself, stood and sat sideways on his knees, and faced him. The stoic Captain was visibly disturbed by her sudden invasion and sat up abruptly to push her off. Alarm knitted his brows together and there was a warning in his eyes to back off.

"What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Relax," she said, staying his injured hands. "I'm less likely to fall over if I'm sitting. And less likely to cut you. It's either this way, or you can get someone else to do it."

He stared at her for a long moment, jaw tense and eyes wary. Finally, he relaxed minutely and sat back in the chair, watching her like he wasn't sure if he could trust her. Given her track record, there was no reason at all he should have. So far, she'd been a walking accident and this seemed like a scenario tailor made for error.

If she were honest with herself, she rather liked how a bit of scruff looked on him. It added to the mystery, made him look dark and dangerous, but she didn't say so. She doubted her opinion would matter.

"All right," she said with a sigh. "Last chance to save your pretty face."

"Just get on with it."

Very carefully, she applied the razor to his cheek and angled it the way her father always had, going with the grain. She bit her bottom lip as she concentrated on not cutting him. To her surprise, when she lifted the blade away, his skin was smooth and clean and she hadn't cut him.

"I did it," she said, delighted.

"Don't get too excited," he said flatly. "You're not done."

"Have a little faith, Captain," she said. "You're the one trusting me to do this, so be quiet and let me."

The look in his eye was unreadable. Had she ever met anyone so able to hide their emotions before? It was like he didn't have any, except perhaps anger, alarm, and mild amusement. So far, that was all she'd seen out of him, and it made her want to crack open his head and find out if there was more to him or if his mind and heart were as cold as his outward appearance suggested.

Rinoa wiped the blade clean and continued on. It was hard to ignore how close he was, or how improper sitting in his lap like this was. All her friends back home would be scandalized that she'd woken undressed, wearing only his tunic and was no sitting in a strange, dangerous man's lap, performing such a task. She was scandalized by her own bold behavior in agreeing in the first place.

There was something very, very personal about shaving a man's face. Rather than grow more comfortable with it, she became increasingly more anxious as she drew the blade over his skin. It was almost an intimate act, him sitting there with his eyes closed and his throat exposed to her while she turned his chin this way and that and held his cheek in the palm of her hand. It made her heartbeat quicken and her cheeks warm at being so close. Hard to focus on what she was doing when it affected her in such a purely physical way.

When she was done, she wiped away the remnants of shave cream and set the razor aside.

"All done," she said, proud that she hadn't even nicked him.

She grabbed the mirror and held it up for him to see her work. He turned his head side to side, inspecting his jaw and chin and then gave a final nod of approval.

"You don't talk much, do you?" she asked.

He responded with a slow shake of the head. The movement shifted his bangs aside to reveal the puckered wound between his eyes. Without thinking, Rinoa reached out to run her thumb along the edge of it.

He batted her hand away and sat up straight in the chair.

"It's looking better," she said. "Probably going to leave a scar."

Though he had made her leave the wound alone, he hadn't made her leave his lap and was now staring at her, studying her again as if trying to figure her out. Rinoa stared back, taking in the neat stitches between his eyes and his long, dark eyelashes and the soft curve of his bottom lip. Long minutes passed as they inspected one another until another sudden lurch threw her against him and a strong arm curled around her waist to steady her.

As she pulled back, the tip of his nose grazed across her temple and sent a thrill of excitement through her whole body. She blinked at him in surprise, thinking that he was about to do something improper, but if he was, it didn't register on his face at all. He stared back at her passively, but his hand rested against the small of her back and it stayed there.

When she reached out to wipe a way a smear of shave cream on the underside of his chin, he flinched.

"You don't like being touched, either," she commented.

He shook his head, no. But something in his eyes betrayed him for a second, a bit of uncertainty that was quickly replaced by his former stoicism.

Rinoa knew right then, that there was a lot more going on behind that cold, indifferent surface than he let on. He refused her touch, yet he let her stay where she was, and if anything their respective positions should have made him far more uncomfortable than her attempt to remove a bit of shave cream. There was something to that, too. There had to be. Otherwise, he would have thrown her off his lap the minute she was done.

"Why not?" she asked.

"What's your point?"

"Because sometimes, you just need a hug."

He made a sound of disdain and looked away.

"Pirates don't hug."

Rinoa smiled at his gruff response.

"I used to love it when my parents held me," she said wistfully. "Then, I got too old for it, and my mother died, and... I miss it sometimes. Made me feel loved..."

"Mmm," he grunted. "I wouldn't know what that's like."

Her sympathy for him was unexpected. To have his family around him, but unable to touch or be the recipient of affection – that must have been hard.

Rinoa looked down at the gap in his linen shirt and her eyes followed the thick chain around his neck. She wondered why she was talking about this. It wasn't as though he cared. Yet he still hadn't made her get up, and he was still studying her an that maddeningly passive way of his.

"It's nice to have someone to hold onto," she said more firmly as her fingers brushed over the face of the lion pendant at the end of the chain. "Someone to make you feel like everything's going to be okay. Do you ever feel like that? Like you need someone to make the world less scary?"

"No."

"I don't believe you," she said. "I bet growing up without that made you think you could only count on yourself. I bet it was lonely."

There was a flash of fear and panic in his face before he put his damaged hands on her waist and pushed her away. He stood abruptly, nearly dumping her on the floor in his haste.

"You don't need to concern yourself with my life," he said frostily. "My childhood is none of your business."

He turned her back on her and fumbled with a stack of bandages and the shaving supplies on the table. Rinoa stepped in and took the bowl and the mirror from him, and she heard a soft growl of frustration as she returned the items to their cabinet.

"You can't do everything on your own all the time, Captain," she said. "It's okay to ask for help."

He stared at her, eyes stormy, but she couldn't tell if he was angry with her or just frustrated with himself.

She guided him back to the chair, pulled a second one close and began to re-bandage his hands.

"Squall," he said.

"What?"

"My name. It's Squall."

Was he giving permission to call him by name? As far as she could tell, not even the people he'd grown up with dared call him by his given name.

"Like the storm?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Well, Squall, I think it suits you," she said with a smile. "Best Pirate name I've ever heard."

He grunted and watched her bandage his hands. Rinoa took that as a sign that he was done being sociable.

"What happened after we went in the water?" she asked.

"You almost drowned."

"I told you I couldn't swim."

He snorted and shook his head. "What were you thinking, going after it like that?"

"Honestly? I wasn't. You were in trouble. You needed help."

He sat back as she secured the bandage and moved on to his other hand.

"I can't decide if that's really brave or really stupid."

The wound on his left hand had popped open and she cleaned away the blood before she applied the soft cloth to his palm.

"Don't do it again," he said.

"I don't suppose there's going to be much of a chance for that, once you give me the old heave-ho," she said. "But that's twice now."

She secured the bandage, surveyed her work and sat back.

"I better get back to the Galley or Zell's going to think you threw me overboard."

A sound that was almost a laugh came out of him and though he didn't smile, there was amusement in his eyes.

"Given the givens, I don't think I'll be the reason you fall off the ship."

"Not for lack of trying, though," she teased. "One frying pan to the head and you get all worked up. It isn't healthy."

"You're dangerous," he said. "You know that."

The mirth that had been in his eyes before faded and was replaced by a darkness that might have scared her if she hadn't just spent the last hour with him at her mercy. It was as if the act of grooming him had taken away the punch of his intensity. For a short time, he'd been vulnerable to her and she was not unaware of how it had changed the dynamic. Something in him had softened toward her, even if it didn't show on the surface.

"Yet you trusted me enough to put a razor to your throat."

"Perhaps I was looking for a reason to keelhaul you."

Rinoa cocked an eyebrow at him as she stood. Squall followed her lead and rose slowly to his feet.

"You're very chatty for a man who says he doesn't like to talk."

"And you're very imprudent for a girl who lied her way onto my ship," he said. "I know you can't cook."

Rinoa opened her mouth to give a retort, but she couldn't think of one that wasn't a flat out lie.

"For that reason alone, I could sacrifice you to the sea gods and not feel one bit of remorse for it."

"But you won't," she said, sounding more confident than she felt.

He stepped closer, his eyes hooded slits. Everything about him now exuded violence and danger and she wondered if she'd crossed a line. She backed up against the wall as he advanced on her, prepared to fight or run if needed, but she refused to break her gaze or show her fear. He blocked her in, bracing one arm against the wall next to her head and leaned in, lips close to her ear. She felt his hot breath on her neck and it sent a shiver through her limbs that was both terrifying and delicious for reasons she didn't quite understand.

"What makes you so sure?" he whispered in her ear.

His voice was soft and velvety and full of suggestion. If he was trying to intimidate, it was having the opposite effect. It made her want to challenge him further, even though she knew if pushed to his limit, he would have no qualms about doing the very thing he'd threatened to do.

"You would have done it already," she said. "I'm not afraid of you. Squall."

"You should be," he murmured.

His tone implied that he meant more than her untimely end was at stake.

"Let me guess," she murmured back. "The big, scary pirate does what he wants."

"There's nothing stopping me."

"Except yourself."

He pulled back, stunned by these words and he stared at her as if she'd slapped him across the face.

"Please return to your duties until we reach port," he said.

With that, he turned away from her, poured himself a cup of wine and sat at the table as if they hadn't just shared a very strange and intense moment.

Nor had he acknowledged that she'd saved his life again.

Not that she expected him to.

* * *

As soon as the door closed, Squall dropped his head into his damaged hands, confused about what had just happened. Something about this girl got him all fired up, and he was not a man who was easy to rile. Why he hadn't keelhauled her the very first day, when she'd kicked him and dumped his dinner, he didn't know. Why he hadn't done it when she'd knocked him unconscious, he couldn't explain. If it had been anyone else, he wouldn't have thought about it, he would have just done it and moved on.

But from the very first moment he'd laid eyes on her, coming up the docks in a dress that was too clean and too well made to be that of a peasant, yet too plain to be that of a socialite, he hadn't been able to get her off his mind. There was as much spirit and fire in her as there was haughty naiveté. For as clumsy and awkward as she was, there was a fighter in her, the likes of which was rare enough, but especially rare in a girl who had obviously come from a higher station than the one she pretended.

Even if her clothing hadn't given her away, the way she kept calling him "Captain," and not "Cap'n," was enough to suggest she was both educated and used to addressing people by their full and proper title. In his experience, that only happened when one belonged to the upper class.

She had some nerve challenging him the way she had. No one did that. No one challenged the ship's Captain and got away with it. Yet he'd let her. Worse, a small part of him  _enjoyed_  it. He might have even drawn it out longer if she hadn't so easily and so succinctly pinned him down.

In his eighteen years of life, no on had ever had him pegged so easily. No one had ever seen through his carefully constructed veneer, but she had. No one had ever seen through to the soft spots or weaknesses behind it, and that bothered him. She'd all but called him a coward, and it had no less an impact than if she'd called him a lily-livered bilge rat or had challenged him to a duel.

Why had he asked her to  _shave_  him? If he were to make a list of people he trusted to put a razor to his face, she would most definitely not be on it. It had made sense at the time, but in hindsight he had to question his own motives. Though she hadn't cut him, it certainly wasn't the wisest decision he'd ever made.

He knew one thing for sure. Those motives had not included a desire to throw her overboard.

He got up and paced the room, unable to shake the feeling that something profound had happened. He couldn't stop thinking about the way she bit lip as she'd concentrated, or the way she'd claimed his lap like she belonged there, or how painfully exposed he'd felt under her gaze. He couldn't shake the way his pulse had quickened to have her so near or how hard he'd struggled to maintain his indifference as she'd stared back at him, unflinching and asked questions she'd had no business asking.

She'd disarmed him somehow, even if only for a few minutes. She'd busted down a wall, had exposed him for the fraud he was, and now he felt like there were fault lines running all through him. Now he could feel her seeping into all the cracks to take up space where she didn't belong.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding and he called for the visitor to come in, though he was only half dressed and out of sorts. Captains didn't get a day off, even if they'd been injured and blindsided by wayward girls pretending to be cooks.

"I gave the order to lift anchor," Xu said. "We should make port within the hour. Not a moment too soon. Kraken punched a hole in the starboard. Cargo hold is ankle deep and I've had to move the prisoners."

"Where?"

"Quartermaster's suite," she said. "I'll take Quistis' accommodations for now."

"They're secure?"

"Water tight," Xu promised. "They're not getting out."

"Good," he said. "Ensure the crew knows anyone who isn't back by sundown gets left at port."

"And the girl?"

"Pay her and get her a room at the tavern near the docks," Squall said. "And ask around to see if there's passage back to Galbadia. Preferably a merchant."

Xu blinked at him. "You want me to pay for her to go home?"

"She did save my life," he said. "Is there a problem?"

"...no," she said. "I just didn't think it would concern you."

"It doesn't," he said.

"Perhaps she could be useful doing something else," Xu said. Her eyes flicked to his forehead. "It appears she can sew... and she's not a bad shot with that Pinwheel."

Squall cut his eyes at her, crossed his arms and said, "And?"

"It might be more cost effective to keep her on."

"That girl is bad luck."

Xu cocked her head at him and studied him for a moment. He didn't like the way she was looking at him.

"What?"

"You like her."

He frowned. Liking her and being intrigued by her were not the same thing, but he suddenly felt transparent.

"I'm indebted to her," he corrected. "See that she's taken care of. Is there anything else?"

"No," Xu said.

"Fine," Squall said. "Until Quistis is returned, you're acting First Mate."

"Who will be responsible for my duties?"

That was a good question. Squall could have taken on the extra responsibility, but it wasn't allowed to keep him honest. Even Pirates had rules.

"Might I suggest Kinneas?" Xu said. "He's not particularly good with his own finances, but he's honest. We can trust him to keep his hands off gold that doesn't belong to him."

"That works for the time being," Squall said. "Almasy been sighted at port?"

"So far, no," Xu said.

No doubt, Almasy had decided to risk it and continue on, even with his ship on the skids. That was just like him. Stupid, reckless, and dangerous. He'd willingly endanger himself and his crew, just to prove something.

"All right," Squall said. "Prepare for arrival."

* * *

Down in the Galley, Rinoa packed her things and changed into the shift Xu had given her. It wasn't the nicest dress – just a plain shift, but it was less extravagant or flashy than some of the others. It might have been fun to wear something flamboyant for fun, but she didn't want to attract the wrong sort of attention.

"It's probably for the best," Zell said. "But I'm not happy to see you go."

"What am I going to do in Centra?" she asked.

"Go home?" Zell suggested.

Rinoa looked up at him, and he shrugged.

"I mean, you're kinda, you know, out of your element..."

"I  _can't_  go home," she said. "There's nothing there for me."

"Yeah, must have been tough to grow up with everything you ever needed," Zell said. "In a house with people to wait on you hand and foot."

Her mouth dropped open, aghast at both his words and the bitterness behind them.

"That's not fair," she said. "You don't know what it's like to be a woman, expected to speak only when spoken to, marrying the person you're told to marry, and the only value they see is your ability to have children. You think you know, but you don't."

"I didn't mean it like that," Zell said. "It's just, you know, you gotta make the best of the deal life hands you. Most people don't get the luxury of choosing."

"Well, they should," Rinoa said.

"Anyway, maybe something good will happen in Centra, you know?" Zell said. "Maybe you'll find what you're looking for."

Rinoa nodded and continued to pack in silence. Her adventure hadn't come to an end, but it had taken a turn for the worse. The whole point was to experience the world, but she hadn't planned on doing it like this. She wanted to go ashore as part of the crew, not as an exile.

A short time later, she found herself on the docks with her bag in hand, unable to look anyone in the eye. Selphie tried to cheer her, but Rinoa didn't want to hear it. She said her goodbyes and followed Xu to a tavern on the square. In a daze, she watched as Xu paid for a room and handed her a fist full of gold.

"Don't go far," Xu told her. "It can be dangerous for a girl on her own."

"I can take care of myself," Rinoa said.

Xu's expression was skeptical. "Either way, I'm going to see if I can book you passage home. I'll be back, so have something to eat, buy yourself a drink, just don't go wandering off."

Rinoa hadn't planned to go anywhere anyhow. She planned to sulk in her room, take a real bath and maybe cry for a while.

The room was not fancy. There was a narrow bed on a metal frame, a small table near the window, and a window that faced an alley. The bath was down the hall and not very private. She left her belongings on the bed and went downstairs, chose a small table near the back and ordered a cup of wine, then two, and then three.

By the time she finished her third glass, Rinoa was tipsy, and her mood darkened by the minute. Halfway through her fourth, she had almost talked herself into going back to the ship and giving Captain Squall  _Pirates-Don't-Hug_  Leonhart a piece of her mind. It wasn't like he was going to let her back on the boat anyway!

She downed her drink, balled her hands at her sides and got up, her cheeks flaming with alcohol and indignance.

"The lady is unaccompanied," a strangely accented voice said. The woman it came from was even stranger. Half woman, half rabbit and exceptionally beautiful, if barely dressed. "That is a mistake in a place such as this."

"Excuse me?" Rinoa said.

Her male companion was extremely handsome, his gilded vest stretched tight over a slender but strong chest.

"Your father will be relieved to see you safe," he said and he offered his hand. "Do be a dear and come quietly."

Rinoa blinked at them, the mention of her father only adding fuel to her anger.

"Caraway sent you?"

"He's put up quite a reward for your return," the man said. He reached for her wrist. "Now come along. We have quite a way to travel."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she said.

"You have my word you will not be harmed," the rabbit woman said.

They both advanced on her and Rinoa backed up, fearful that they would kidnap her right out of the bar. In her semi-drunken state, it wouldn't be difficult, but she would make sure everyone around her knew she was being taken against her will.

"You tell my father I'd rather live on the streets than under his roof again," she said. "Now let me go!"

"Is there a problem here?" a low, gravelly voice cut in.

Rinoa swiveled toward the familiar sound and saw the captain, clad in a fine black velvet coat with ornate silver filigree embroidered over the shoulders and matching buttons down the front, a three-cornered hat upon his head, looking very dangerous and very, very handsome as he stood toe to toe with the man.

"This doesn't concern you, sir," the stranger said.

"Anything that involves her is of concern to me," Squall said frostily. "And I suggest you get your hands _off my wife_."


	8. Chapter 8

_Wife?!_

Of all the things he could have said, Squall's mouth had spit out the least reasonable thing imaginable. Immediately, he realized his mistake, but it was too late to take it back. Everyone had heard it, and half the tavern whistled and cat-called and lifted their glasses in toast. Word would spread that the cold, stoic and unfriendly commander had found love, and that would bring on a whole set of other troubles from those who believed love made a man soft-hearted and less likely to fight back.

Damn it. What had he done?

Squall and the bounty hunters had crossed paths before. Balthier was smart, shrewd and entirely without scruples, though he fancied himself a gentleman. Balthier would do nearly anything for gold and he would have made a ruthless pirate had he not chosen his current line of work.

Rumor had it, the pair had once been Sky Pirates - a rumor Squall was inclined to believe. Rinoa may have been bad luck, but these two were worse. They were not a bad day or even a concussion by kitchen utensil, they were an unrepairable hole in the hull, a guarantee things were about to deteriorate. He wished their kind on no one, not even Almasy.

"Your wife, eh?" Balthier said. He lifted Rinoa's knuckles to his lips to kiss them. "I'm sure her father will be greatly displeased to hear she's been ravaged by the likes of you."

"I said let her go," Squall said.

Balthier ignored him and peered at Rinoa's hand, her wrist still tight in his grip.

"I see no ring," Balthier said and lifted his gaze to the chain around her neck. He lifted it with a fingertip and inspected the plain band that dangled from the end. "This clearly doesn't belong to you."

Squall's hand snapped out and seized the man's collar. He gave him a hard yank forward and stared up into Balthier's eyes.

"I told you to let go of her."

Balthier slowly released Rinoa's wrist, but his expression remained calm. He wasn't intimidated, nor had Squall expected him to be.

Squall pushed Rinoa behind him to spare her Balthier's scrutiny. He didn't like the way Balthier was eying her, like she was a stack of freshly minted gold coins ripe for the taking. Likely, that was all he saw. Not a naive girl out of her element, but a payday.

"Perhaps you should let the lady speak for herself," Balthier said.

"Perhaps you should move along," Squall said. "My patience is wearing thin."

"Let the lady speak," the Viera said.

Squall didn't release his grip on Balthier, but he glanced at Balthier's partner Fran. She was well known for her skill with a bow, and for being the lone voice of reason in Balthier's quest for riches. Balthier deferred to Fran and Fran only.

Perhaps Squall could appeal to her sense of logic and convince them to walk away without their prize. Or perhaps not. She could be just as ruthless as he was, though her reputation for leaving behind a trail of bodies was less well known because she showed mercy when it was due.

"Rinoa?" Squall prompted.

"The lady's had too much to drink," Rinoa murmured and leaned her face into the back of Squall's arm. "I'm positive you just said I'm your wife. And that's... that  _can't_  be right."

Squall gritted his teeth and released Balthier. He slipped an arm around Rinoa's shoulders and pulled her roughly against his side, the universal signal that she belonged to him. Rinoa squeaked and stared up at him with big, round eyes and a look that said she was ten seconds from screaming. Her fingernails dug into his back and he tried not to let it show how much it hurt.

Balthier smiled, cocked his head and crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes flicked from Rinoa to Squall and back, and Squall could almost hear the gears turning in the man's head. Balthier did not believe the lie.

"How interesting," Balthier said. "You say you're married, yet the lady says you are not."

Squall didn't have an answer, nor did he know how to dig himself out of this. It was one thing to send Rinoa home on a merchant ship bound for Galbadia. It was another to release her to the custody of bounty hunters. He gathered from the conversation he'd overheard, she was from a good, wealthy family, but for whatever reason, she'd run. She was a clumsy mess and bad luck to boot, but there was no way he would let her go under these circumstances. Not with them. Balthier was likely to ransom her, in hopes of not only collecting the bounty but a little extra, just because he could.

"What do you have to say for yourself, pirate?" Fran asked. "Do not lie. I will know it."

Squall glanced at Rinoa, opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

It was Zell that spoke up. Where he'd come from, Squall didn't know, but Zell started talking and Squall was spared the necessity of a lie. Unfortunately it was Zell, and whatever lie he was about to tell was sure to get them in more trouble.

"They're not married, exactly," Zell said. "Not yet. The ceremony's, um, tonight! Yeah. On the ship. Bad luck to wear the rings before you're married, right? Isn't that what they say?"

Squall refrained from smacking himself in the forehead, punching Zell in the face, or screaming out loud. Now he was going to have to play this out until he could shake the bounty hunters, and that was the last thing he had time or patience for.

Balthier's hawkish face turned shrewd as he took in Rinoa's stiff posture at Squall's side and her wide, alarmed eyes.

"Is that so?" Balthier said mildly.

Squall slid both arms around her waist and bent down to feign an affectionate nuzzle.

"Play along," he whispered in her ear. "Pretend you like me."

Rinoa got the message. She leaned into him and tucked herself shyly against his chest. Her hand curled around the lapel of his coat, and some hungry beast in Squall's chest opened its mouth and roared.

"I was just celebrating early," she said. "Had a little too much while the men were off doing business. I got lonely. I'm a little... intoxicated. I don't know what I'm saying."

"Yeah, we're just at port to get stuff," Zell chimed in. "For the party and stuff. 'Cause, you know, you gotta do it up right when the Cap'n gets married and all. That's a big deal. Especially for Cap here, he's pretty picky when it comes to girls."

"I'm sure he gets the point," Squall said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yeah, I guess you're right," Zell said. His face had gone bright red. "It's just, you know, pretty exciting."

"Perhaps you should get started on preparations, Dincht," Squall said stiffly. "For the meal."

Squall glared as Zell finally met his eye. They would discuss this later.

"Right, right," Zell said. "Did we decide on the beef or the mutton?"

"You're the cook," Squall said. "I'll leave that up to you, unless Rinoa has a preference."

"What?" she asked. "I don't care. Either is fine. Some more wine would be nice..."

Squall thought about what he'd seen real couples do together and remembered the way Selphie and Irvine played with each other's hair. He held back a grimace as he lifted a hand to stroke Rinoa's long, dark locks. Though tangled, her hair was soft and smelled of lavender and he sort of liked the way it felt as he threaded his finger through the strands and tried not to picture what it would feel like against his cheek.

"This presents us a dilemma," Balthier said. "As the Lady Rinoa is not yet wed, she is still property of her father, and while I do have a soft spot for young love, if we allow you to proceed, Fran and I lose a rather large prize. Naturally, I prefer the jewel and a bit of ransom."

Squall dropped a hand from Rinoa's waist and laid it against the grip of his gunblade.

"If you suggest a duel, then I'll give you one."

"Pistol beats sword every time, Pirate," Balthier said. "You'd be wise to reconsider."

Squall didn't hesitate. He drew his blade and in an instant had Balthier back against the nearest wall, the cold steel pressed to the bounty hunter's throat. To his credit, Balthier showed no fear. His eyes gleamed, challenge accepted.

"Now, now, Leonhart," he said. "You can't kill the leading man."

Squall didn't know what that meant. Nor did he care.

"This is unwise," Fran said behind him. "Release him."

Squall glanced over his shoulder to see Fran had drawn her bow, a huge arrow pointed squarely at his back. Inhuman amber eyes burned bright beneath dark lashes, and Squall didn't doubt she would loose it upon him if he ignored her request.

"You should do as the lady says," Balthier said with a small smile.

Fran released the arrow as Rinoa tackled the Viera around the waist, but it was sent off course and struck the wall next to Balthier's head. Both women hit the floor, and Squall was stunned to see Rinoa attempt to wrestle Fran into submission. The Viera had the advantage of height and strength and years more experience, but Rinoa was apparently very scrappy and gave as good as she got.

"Ladies, do try to behave," Balthier said, clearly amused by the sight. To Squall, "you're going to have your hands full with that one."

"Don't I know it," Squall mumbled.

Rinoa had a handful of Fran's snowy hair and a murderous look in her eye. She lifted Fran's head and smashed it into the floor, making the Viera cry out in pain. Fran retaliated with a hard cuff across the cheek with the back of her armored wrist and wrenched Rinoa's hand away from her head. She sat up and twisted Rinoa's arm, but the smaller girl seized one of Fran's ear and yanked it sideways.

Squall had never seen anything so improbable in his life. A Lady rolling around on the floor, fighting with a Viera that could easily kill her if she wanted to. As crazy as it was, he admired Rinoa's guts. There was no way she would win this fight, but she didn't seem willing to raise the white flag.

"I suppose we should break it up, before Fran scratches your pretty wife's face to shreds," Balthier said. "You take Rinoa, I'll handle Fran?"

Squall grunted and released the bounty hunter and turned as Fran pinned Rinoa to the floor with a shriek. Amber eyes flashed red as she lifted one claw into the air. Rinoa struggled beneath her, but in her position, didn't stand a chance.

Balthier swooped in and caught Fran around the waist a second before she struck at Rinoa and lifted her off the smaller girl. Fran howled and flailed until Balthier set her on her feet and pushed her back toward the table. On the floor, Rinoa sat up, her cheeks flushed with too much wine and anger. Squall helped her to her feet.

She'd saved him. Again. Fran's arrows never missed, or so he'd heard.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Rinoa blinked up at him, still angry, and she cast her eyes toward the Viera with disdain.

"I'm not," she hissed. "I just got into a fight with a bunny in lingerie!"

"She's not a bunny," Squall said and struggled to hide his smile. He wrapped his hands around her wrists. "She's a Viera and she could have killed you."

"What were you thinking?" she hissed. "Your wife?!"

What  _was_  he thinking? Squall couldn't honestly say he  _had_  been thinking at the time.

"Would you prefer to go with them?" he asked. "Back to your father?"

"No," she said, "but they're expecting us to get married now!"

"I'm aware," he said.

"Can we fake it?" she asked. "Put on a good show and let them think it's for real?"

"If it was anyone else, I'd say yes," he said. "But Balthier is not easily fooled. Fran, even less so."

Rinoa's expression turned mutinous.

"I left my father to escape having to marry someone I don't even know," she said. "Now you're telling me, my only way out of that is to marry you?"

Squall gritted his teeth at her fury and her tone of absolute distaste. His hands curled around her shoulders and he leaned in again to whisper in her ear.

"Keep your voice down," he breathed. "I don't care which you choose. I'll accept that I misspoke and bear that burden if I'm the lesser of evils."

"I am so  _sick_  of people making decisions for me!"

"I'll stand by whichever you make, but you need to make one."

Rinoa stared up at him, eyes full of frustrated anger.

"Why would you bother?"

"Honor," he said. "Obligation."

"Obligation? Honor? What does that mean?"

"I won't be responsible for ruining your reputation," Squall said. "And... I owe you my life. Again."

Rinoa's lips parted, but no words came out.

"I'm a man of my word," he said.

"My reputation is already ruined," she said and cast her eyes to the floor. "Seifer saw to that."

Squall's eyebrow hitched up and wondered how she knew Almasy and what he might have done to damage the reputation of a lady. When and where had they met? And, had Seifer charmed her into...

"Nothing happened," she said quickly. "I'll explain later, but suffice it to say, my prospects for marriage declined significantly because of him. The only option left has a reputation of his own, and it isn't a good one. He  _accidentally_ beat his last wife to death."

Squall wasn't sympathetic, but he understood her position. He was familiar with being held hostage by tradition and familial expectation, with being given no choice about which direction the wind blew.

"Aye. Explain later," he said, his grip loosening. "Make a decision, and make it fast."

"If I choose you," she said slowly, "promise you won't throw me overboard or string me up or whatever once they're gone."

Of all the things to be afraid of in this situation. It could go sideways in twenty different directions, she'd nearly drowned, had fought a Kraken and a Viera and lived, and she was afraid of  _that_. Not of her impending marriage or of what could potentially happen after, not of the bounty hunters, but that he might choose to dispose of her over the side of the ship in order to end the marriage. Even though he'd made the threat repeatedly and failed to execute it.

"I promise," he said. "On my honor as a pirate, no harm will come to you by my hands. I can't speak for what you might accidentally do to yourself."

"Mean."

"Aye," he said. "We've already established that. Your choice?"

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and released it. When she opened them, he saw the resignation there and knew instinctively what she'd chosen.

"...I choose Pirate."

So that was that. Captain Squall Leonhart was getting married, something he never imagined himself doing. He was going to marry the bad luck.

He was doomed.

With Fran calmed considerably, Balthier approached, his face twisted into a victorious smirk. Squall straightened as the man came closer, a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

_Doomed._

This was such a bad idea.

"If you're finished plotting with your lovely bride," Balthier said. "We have unfinished business, Leonhart."

"Aye," Squall agreed. "But she won't be going with you."

"I propose a compromise," Balthier said. "Frannie and I will witness the blessed event and return to the girl's father with the happy news, in exchange for a bit of gold."

Squall growled under his breath. Of course, they would want some compensation for their loss of revenue. Of course they would resort to extortion. He shouldn't have expected less.

"If I refuse?" he asked.

"Then we'll be taking the girl. Whether you live or die is up to you."

"I'll have my first mate escort you back to the ship," Squall said.

"I think not," Fran chimed in. "We will stay with the girl."

Squall did not want to let Rinoa out of his sight, in case they tried to double cross him. He would not agree to be separated from her. His best bet was to return to the ship with the pair, as much as he disliked that option. He wanted them nowhere near his vessel, but the only way to rid himself of them now was to give them what they wanted.

_Wife._

What the  _hell_  was wrong with him?

* * *

 

Rinoa stood in the First Mate's quarters, shaking as Selphie laced her into a corset and babbled happily about how excited she was about the impromptu wedding and how wonderful and romantic it all was.

At least someone was happy about it.

Rinoa was terrified. She didn't want to be married. She didn't want to marry  _him_ , as much as she suspected he was much more sensitive and much kinder than he let on. If she  _were_  to get married, she'd prefer a long engagement, so she could get to know her future husband better. All she knew about Captain Squall Leonhart was that he was cold hearted, hid what he really felt, and made a lot of threats he didn't carry out.

Why had he said it? He could have said or done a hundred other things besides that, and it would not have resulted in the one thing she'd been trying to avoid. All he'd had to do was create a distraction that would allow her to escape. He and Zell could have battled the pair into submission. He could have paid for their silence. Anything but  _this_.

Her only consolation was that he was just as reluctant as she was. When they'd parted ways on the deck, the look on his face as he'd climbed the mast to the crow's nest was like that of a man about to jump off of it. As if the prospect of being married to her was the worst he could imagine.

If so, why carry the ruse this far? Why offer her the option at all? He disliked her enough to throw her off his ship, to leave her stranded in a strange place where she didn't speak the language, yet he was willing to make a lifetime commitment to keep her out of the hands of bounty hunters? He'd said it was honor and obligation, but her fate had nothing to do with his honor. As far as obligation, that didn't make for a good match.

She winced as Selphie began to tighten the laces of the corset around her torso. Selphie was not being gentle, and the heavily boned fabric cut into Rinoa's ribs and stole her breath with each tug.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered at her reflection. "If I were smart, I'd figure out a way to sneak off the ship."

"That's a really, super-duper bad idea," Selphie said. "I know those two bounty hunter people, and even if you were really good at hiding, Fran would hunt you down and find you because she can smell stuff that people cant, and then you'd be on your way back to Galbadia and probably ransomed back to your father. At least this way, you get to stay and be my friend. And, you know, the Cap'n's not a bad guy and he's handsome and strong and smart... "

"Perhaps you should marry him then," Rinoa said sourly.

"I don't think Irvy would like that," Selphie said. "And Cap can be awfully grumpy, but Irvy says that's just because he needs a woman in his bed."

Rinoa's face flushed bright pink at the mention of that. Oh, Hyne what was she going to do? She'd heard terrible things about what men wanted in the bedroom. Not in detail, of course. It wasn't appropriate to discuss those sorts of things, but what she had heard sounded so horrible and unappealing and painful, she'd considered joining a convent until she remembered she wasn't all that religious.

Selphie saw her blush and started to giggle.

"Don't be scared," Selphie said. "It's not as awful or weird as they say. It can be pretty fun, to be honest with you, especially if he wants you to have fun too."

Never had Rinoa heard a woman say that marital relations were  _fun_. Either Selphie was a liar, or she knew something Rinoa and her friends didn't. That was likely, since it seemed this world was very different from her own. Women seemed to be allowed more independence and autonomy and were treated more or less as equals. That didn't happen in Galbadia, where all they saw was a pretty face and a fertile womb and the size of her dowry.

"So you... have?" Rinoa asked, unable to articulate her question. She didn't know what she was asking. "You and Irvine?"

"Sure. All the time."

All the time?

"And you enjoy it?"

Selphie grinned hugely. "I have no complaints."

Rinoa pressed her knuckles to her lips and watched the smaller girl smile to herself in the mirror. She wanted to ask advice, but didn't know how or what to ask, and she was too embarrassed to try. Her plan was to get drunk and hope that she didn't really remember it in the morning. Maybe that was a bad plan, but it was all she had.

As Selphie tied the corset strings tight, the elder Captain Leonhart appeared, perched on the edge of Selphie's bed. Her blue-gray eyes took Rinoa in from head to toe and Rinoa shrank under her gaze. With a slow nod, Raine Leonhart stood and approached, placed herself between Rinoa and the mirror and peered into Rinoa's face with an unreadable expression.

Rinoa saw a lot of Squall in her. They had the same calm, cold stare, the same cloudy blue eyes and their features were strikingly similar. Rinoa hadn't seen it until now, but Squall was his mother's son, in more ways than one.

"I'm sorry," Rinoa blurted out. "I didn't want this to happen."

"I had hoped my son would marry for love."

"It's not too late to back out," Rinoa said. "I could go with the bounty hunters and hope to slip away somewhere so that he doesn't have to be...  _obligated_."

Raine's hands ghosted over Rinoa's hair like she wanted to offer comfort. Rinoa couldn't feel it, but it was a exceptionally motherly gesture. One Rinoa longed for and never got.

"He gave his word," Raine said. "It's too late to back out now."

"What about me?" she asked. "If I ran, that would spare him the trouble, right?"

Raine's lips quirked upward. It was almost a smile, but her eyes were thoughtful.

"Less than you might believe," Raine said. "By now, word is out that he will be married. The whole port knows of it. A day from now, it will be known in other ports and by week's end, the world will know. If you leave him standing at the altar, you compromise his honor, and to Squall, honor is very important."

"But, isn't love more important?" Rinoa asked. "Doesn't that matter more? If he has a choice, wouldn't he choose to be happy?"

Behind Rinoa, Selphie gaped. Big green eyes were wide with both interest and surprise as she took in the conversation between them. In her hands, she held Rinoa's gown. Yards of slivery-blue fabric shimmered in the weak light, the bodice and trim covered in beads of darker blue that glistened like little gemstones. It was a beautiful dress. Almost too beautiful to be something found in the belly of a pirate ship.

"Hate to interrupt," Selphie said, "but, it's time to get dressed."

Rinoa nodded and held out her arms for Selphie to slip the gown on.

"Perhaps he has chosen happiness," Raine said in answer to her question. "He just doesn't know it yet."

"He can't stand me," Rinoa said. Selphie tugged at the at the sleeves of the dress and Rinoa wished there'd been something simpler for her to wear. The corset was too tight and it was hard to breathe. "If given the opportunity, he'd still want to leave me here at port."

Raine's smile was enigmatic.

"Yet he chose not to," she said. "I've never seen him fail to carry out a threat before, yet he's done so with you. Several times. Why do you think that is?"

Rinoa had no idea, and she could give no answer. She pressed a hand to her stomach and grimaced, tried her best to draw a shallow breath and keep herself from crying. Her own rash and impulsive decisions had led her here, and it was no one's fault but her own.

"I know my son well, Rinoa," Raine said. "He may not love you, but you have nothing to fear from him. And perhaps in time, he will grow fond of you, if he isn't already."

A weak, humorless laugh spilled from Rinoa's lips as she tried to picture the Captain growing fond of her. Fondness was not love. Fondness did not change how crazy this whole thing was. It didn't chase away the bounty hunters outside the door, or the growing fear in her belly that this was a huge mistake.

"All I ask of you is to accept him as he is," Raine said. "The way we live, there's precious little room for kindness. I know you little, but I can see you have a kind heart, and that's what he needs most of all, even if he never shows it."

It was the plea of a mother who had watched her son grow up without her care. It said,  _give him the love that I could not_ , and Rinoa's heart went out to the woman.

"I'll do my best."

But, her best might not be good enough.

* * *

 

The  _Hyperion_  could not continue sailing until the damage in the hull was repaired. It was with great reluctance that Seifer turned for port and dropped anchor off the coast, behind a wall of rock instead of at the docks. He did not want his men going ashore if he could help it. The only ones allowed off the ship would be responsible for procuring supplies and a pair of rings from town. Nor did he want Leonhart to spot him.

For that task, he enlisted the brown haired girl with the weird eyes and her tall, scary friend. Raijin and the monkey kid would handle things needed for repairs. The rest would stay aboard and assist with bailing water from below deck.

He'd been forced to move Quistis from the cargo hold and into his room to avoid making her sit in two inches of water. Not that he minded seeing her cuffed to the headboard of his bed, but she wasn't such a fan of that idea and demanded to be unlocked every time he entered the room.

"Keep your pantaloons on, Trepe," he said. "I'll let you go soon enough."

She was not happy about it and expressed her displeasure by hurling a half empty bottle of mead at his head. Now he had a lump on his temple, a bit of a headache and a really pissed off future wife. Well, good. The sex was always better when she was mad at him.

As he stood in the crow's nest, peering at the harbor through a pair of binoculars, he recognized the Lionheart and gritted his teeth. He was not in any position to stage a rescue, but damn if he didn't want to. Fujin was so close, but at present, he didn't have the resources to lodge an assault.

"Heya, Cap!" Rikku chirped as she hopped into the bucket. "What'cha lookin' at?"

He handed her the binoculars and pointed in the general direction of the  _Lionheart_.

Her eyes narrowed and her pretty mouth twisted into a scowl as she peered through the lenses at the ship in the distance.

"They've got my brother," she said. "He's an idiot, but he's still my brother and I want him back."

"Yeah, well, nothing we can do about it right now," Seifer said.

He took the binoculars from her hands and peered through them again.

"Yuna's back with your stuff," she said.

"Who the hell is Yuna?" he asked.

"Uh, brown hair, one green eye, one blue?" Rikku said. "You musta hit your head really hard the other day. You keep forgetting her name."

"Oh. Yuna. Right," Seifer said.

"They heard in town Cap'n Leonhart is getting married, too," Rikku said. "They're having a big party and everything, right here at port."

Seifer turned and stared at her. Squall? Getting  _married_?

"To who, Dincht?"

"I dunno, some girl," Rikku said. "Rumor had it, she beat up a Viera in the tavern earlier. That she's some high society Lady who gave it all up to become a Pirate."

Rinoa?

Seifer burst out laughing. That was just too good for words and he wondered how the hell that had happened. He couldn't picture that union, even if he turned his head sideways and squinted.

"Sort of romantic," Rikku said. "Leaving it all behind for adventure on the sea."

"Leonhart doesn't have a romantic bone in his body."

Beside him, Rikku bounced on her toes, the beads in her hair clicking together in a steady, irritating rhythm.

"I kinda want to use the distraction to sneak on board and set Brother and Fujin free," Rikku said. "I could be in and out before anyone notices. As long as Brother keeps his big mouth shut."

"Your brother is named...  _Brother_?"

"Yeah, stupid isn't it?" Rikku said. "Anyway, what do you think?"

Seifer stared at her. He didn't know if she was serious or not, but it wasn't that bad an idea. So long as she didn't get caught, it might be possible.

"If you get caught it's your ass," Seifer said. "But, I suggest you go by yourself, wait till the festivities have started, then sneak back after dark."

"Woohoo!" she cried and flung herself back onto the rungs to climb back down. "I won't let'cha down, Cap'n!"

Seifer watched her climb down with mild interest and smiled to himself. If she was worth her salt and as stealthy and as good a thief as her friends claimed, Fujin would be back on his ship by daybreak, and Leonhart would be long gone before he even realized it.

* * *

 

Quistis sat on the edge of Seifer's bed, pulled her chains tight and kicked the headboard with all her might. As before, the wood made a cracking sound, but didn't give way. Quistis doubted it would. The headboard was a heavy and cumbersome hunk of wood, akin to something found on a fancy Lord's estate, with fancy engraving and a high polish. She would need an ax to break it apart.

Seifer certainly liked the finer things in life, but he aimed too high.

Well, he thought he'd bested her, but Quistis had not laid all her cards on the proverbial table yet. Seifer had correctly figured she planned to double cross him, and she didn't mind that. He just didn't know how, or how much she knew about the location of a certain treasure. Over the years, she'd seen the map and had practically memorized it.

Of course, others had seen it too, and no one had successfully located even a single gold coin after all these years.

Without that information, Seifer would grow frustrated, do something reckless, and Quistis planned to take advantage of that. Seifer made bad choices when he was frustrated, and on the sea, bad choices got men killed.

She kicked the headboard again, heard the now familiar crack of wood and gritted her teeth in annoyance. This strategy wasn't working. She needed another plan.

Minutes later, Seifer entered his quarters with a heavy bundle of rich, pale gold fabric in his arms.

"Hello, my wife," he purred as he laid the fabric on the bed beside her. "You're looking... like you'd enjoy splitting me from navel to nose with a dinner knife."

Quistis kept her stare cool and level. "Unlock me."

"Patience is a virtue, my dear," he said and held up he gown. "What do you think?"

The dress was too beautiful for words. The heavy gold brocade rippled like molten gold as he unfurled it. Silver embroidery in the shape of fern leaves curved across the bodice, and were embedded with bright jewels that sparkled amber in the candle light. Embellishments of braided fringe draped from the waist and wrists, the color a slightly darker shade of gold.

It was beautiful.

"It's lovely," Quistis said. She bit her lip and peered up at him, remembering the days when they were still allies. "I'm pleased to wear it."

"Good," he said. His grin broadened, but it was a predatory smile, a malicious smile and devoid of any good humor. It was the smile he gave just before he moved in for the kill. "I hear our good Captain Leonhart is about to be wed as well."

"What?" she asked. That couldn't possibly be true. "To whom?"

"Mmm, I believe there was a young woman aboard the  _Lionheart_  by the name of Rinoa?" Seifer said. "Does that ring a bell?"

The kitchen wench that couldn't cook? Quistis was surprised she was even still alive.

"Rinoa?" Quistis asked skeptically. "That's about as likely as the sun rising in the west."

Seifer's smile was shrewed. "Jealous?"

"Hardly," she said. "Whatever feelings I had for him are long settled. I was a fifteen year old girl with a crush. Nothing more."

That was the truth. At fifteen, Quistis had been drawn to the tacit young captain in training, just like every other girl on the ship. Seifer had been charming and handsome, but there was no mystery. What you saw was what you got, and he left nothing to the imagination. Squall had been the sort of puzzle a girl of fifteen found all too attractive – his beauty and his gruffness only added to the appeal.

It was also true Quists had used Seifer to squash her feelings, once she'd realized Squall was less a mystery than he seemed and that she stood no chance of ever capturing his attention. No one got Squall's attention unless it was to give an order. Her feelings for him now were familial at best.

"Is that so?" Seifer asked. "What about me? What was I to you?"

"An easy conquest," she said. "You didn't even put up a fight."

Seifer's toothy grin was the boyish smile that had drawn her in to begin with. He put a knee on the bed and pushed her back into the mattress, cyan eyes glittering with mischief.

"What about now?" he murmured as he pressed his lips to her throat. "What are we now?"

"Business partners."

Seifer pulled back and pretended disappointment.

"You and Leonhart really are a match made in hell," Seifer murmured as his eyes drank her in. "Not a bit of romance in either of you."

"Romance is for fifteen year old girls and bards and poets and young men with giant egos," she said. "I am none of those things."

His big hands encircled her chained wrists and he pinned them above her head and leaned over her. Lips feathered over hers, kissed her closed eyelids and brushed over her temple. Quistis lay perfectly still as he turned his attention to her collarbone, but inside she was melting. He always knew just how to touch her just enough to drive her wild.

_Bastard._

He lifted her skirts and a hand slid up over her stocking clad thigh. Calloused fingertips dipped below the edge of it and pulled it free from the garter that held it up. Quistis bit her lip to stifle her gasp, but as his fingers slid higher she began to pant in anticipation of his touch.

"I should drown you in the rain barrel," she said breathlessly, "for taking advantage like this."

Lips pressed to the inside of her thigh, tongue slid upward and Quistis forgot why she was supposed to be angry.

"You could stop me if you wanted to," he murmured, hot breath like a caress against her skin. "But you haven't."

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

"Why not?"

He tugged at her undergarments and her hips lifted involuntarily off the bed as he slid them down her thighs. No, she didn't want him to stop. She wanted what his mouth promised, and cried out softly when she got it. Feather light, his tongue slid over her, back and forth along her cleft and her hands balled into fists because they could not reach him. His soft laugh would have been an insult if not for the flicker of his tongue against her, light, teasing strokes that could have easily pushed her over the edge -

\- if he hadn't suddenly and inexplicably decided to  _stop_. He propped himself up above her, his knowing grin too maddening for words.

_Dirty, filthy bilge-rat bastard._

"I think I'm going to enjoy changing your mind, Quistis," he said and stood with a satisfied smile. "I'll see you later."

* * *

 

Squall endured a lecture from his mother as he dressed for his doom, pointedly ignoring all her advice on how to treat a lady. He did not plan to behave like a savage, and his mother should have known better.

He was no blushing virgin, thanks to Irvine, too much wine and a drunken night a brothel in Dollet after he'd been made Captain, but he wasn't so experienced that he knew exactly what to do later. If he had his way, he would do nothing. Rinoa was physically attractive to him, she was  _beautiful_ , but it was best to approach this as a business arrangement and nothing more. The marriage could go unconsummated for all he cared, if that was her preference, then so be it.

"Squall are you listening?" Raine asked. "You need to hear this."

"I don't need your advice," he said as he buttoned his coat. "I plan to keep my hands to myself."

"You haven't heard a word I've said."

"No," he agreed. "I haven't, because none of it applies."

"Squall, you do understand she's a person with feelings, right?" Raine asked. "Regardless of the situation or the arrangement you've made, it isn't honorable to treat her like an obligation, even if she is."

Squall turned toward his mother, who sat at the table, fiddling with the specter of keys that he'd lost.

"This is not your business."

"Of course it is," she said. "You are my son and your happiness is all that matters to me now."

His happiness? What did she know about his happiness? She'd long ago lost her right to feel or be responsible for it.

"If that were true, you would go wherever it is that you're supposed to be, instead of hounding me day in and day out about what I should do," he said. "You're dead, I'm a grown man, and you don't get to tell me how to live my life."

Raine broke into a rare smile and began to laugh. She pressed a hand over her mouth and her eyes were full of mirth as she tried to hold back, but Squall heard it anyway.

"I'm sorry," she said. "It was the way you said it."

Defeated, Squall dropped to a chair at the table and picked up his tri-cornered hat and fiddled with the brim.

"I can't do anything right by you, can I?" he asked. "No matter what, you always want more."

The amusement bled out of her face and was replaced by a deep sadness that stung him to the core. He'd seen her sad before, but not like this.

"I am proud of you, Squall," she said. "You grew up strong and smart and capable, but I think Cid gave you command too soon. That's a heavy burden for a boy to carry."

She was right about that. Power had been thrust into his hands at the age of seventeen, and he had been less ready for it than he'd been willing to admit. It was a burden he'd accepted, but constantly questioned, but no one walked away from an opportunity like this.

"It isn't that you haven't done right, it's that I'm afraid for you," Raine said. "And as you mother, it's my right to fear all the bad things that can happen to you. But what I'm most afraid of is that you've cut yourself off from what's most important and that is the ability to love others, be they friend or paramour. You can't get by without it. Your men will not trust you if they don't see that spark of humanity in you."

"What do you want from me?" he asked wearily.

"For you to be happy," she said. "And if this life isn't what makes you happy, do something else, but damn it, don't close your heart to the best thing this hard life has to offer besides piles of gold. Gold is nice, but it doesn't warm your bed at night or soothe the ache in your heart."

Squall searched her face for a moment, stood and went to the dresser. He lifted his pendant around his neck, then ran a fingertip over the pair of rings laid on a clean scrap of white cloth.

"Just because you were happy to fall in love with a fool, doesn't mean I will."

"Rinoa is no fool," Raine said. "And if you let her be, she will be a good match for you."

Squall's humorless laugh echoed through the room, and when he turned, his mother was gone. He lifted his hat from the table, settled it on his head and squared his shoulders. Time to get this farce over with, once and for all.

Everyone had gathered on deck for the event, and Squall couldn't have been in a less festive mood. The scent of roast meat and savory ingredients mingled with the early evening air and should have been enticing, but it only soured his stomach. Nearby, the ghost of his father sat weeping openly with heart-eyes full of joy as Raine sat beside him with a more sober expression.

"Are you ready?" Xu asked.

Squall nodded. Xu would officiate the ceremony, as was the first mate's duty when the captain chose to wed. Her skepticism showed.

"Do you have something to say?" he asked.

"Just surprised," she said. "One minute, you wanted to send her home, the next you're marrying her. It's not you."

"Couldn't be avoided," he said. "Shall we get on with it?"

"Aye."

Squall did not hear what Xu said to calm the crowd, but they settled into a low murmur as torches were lit all along the deck. He followed Xu up to the navigation platform in a daze, his eyes on the distant sea and the setting sun.

When Rinoa appeared, her hair curled and pinned up and clad in a gown of the palest blue, Squall couldn't tear his eyes away. Even from where he stood, he could see how prettily she blushed as well as the fear in her big brown eyes. By the time Zell escorted her to his side, she was visibly shaking. She didn't want him any more than he wanted her. That much was clear.

So be it.

Squall stumbled his way through vows, almost put the ring on the wrong hand, and signed his name on the official form in shaky script. Rinoa almost dropped his ring, mumbled the words so softly, Xu had to ask her to speak up.

"I do," she said. The way her voice broke stabbed Squall straight in the heart.

It was done. All that was left was a kiss.

Pirate tradition held that it should be rough and passionate, but Squall couldn't bring himself to manhandle her that way. The bright terror in her eyes quelled the beast in his chest and when he stepped forward, it was with gentleness instead. He laid his hands along her jaw, cupping her over-warm cheeks in his palms and with both mercy and determination, pressed his lips to hers.

He didn't hear the cries of jubilation around him, he only felt the softness of her mouth and her hesitant response to him. In his chest, the beast reawakened and demanded more.

"I now pronounce you, Captain and wife, may the gods of the sea bless you and may you find bounty and riches in love," Xu said.

At his side, Rinoa's eyes rolled back into her head and she slid to the deck with a heavy thud.

She was out cold.


	9. Chapter 9

Just before sundown, Rikku took a row boat from the _Hyperion_ to port alone, dressed in the garb of a common girl. She tied her braids up under a bandanna to hide the colorful beads in them, and moored the small boat at the furthest end of the docks.

It wasn't hard to spot the _Lionheart_ among the many ships at port. Its masts stood taller than any other, the tallest topped by a black flag with a silver cross and a lion's head. Torches lit the deck and it appeared one heck of a party was in progress.

She made her way toward the ship and ignored the cat calls and inappropriate comments as she passed by merchants and deck hands on their way to taverns and brothels in the square. Armed, she had no concerns for her safety. Anyone who decided to make her a target would find themselves on their backs, a blade in their gut, and lighter a few possessions.

She followed a pair of young men up the gangplank, pretending she had been invited. Once aboard, she ducked behind a stack of crates and wedged herself behind one so as not to be seen by others boarding the ship, nor the groups of people on deck. All their attention was focused on the happy couple and the first mate as the nuptials were performed.

Crate by crate, Rikku moved closer to the hatch that would lead her below deck, but until the crowd dispersed, she couldn't reach it without being seen. So, she waited and watched the proceedings with interest.

The poor bride looked like she was about to pass out, her pretty face pale and scared. The Captain's expression gave nothing away, but he didn't seem particularly excited. He was handsome, in a pretty sort of way, and not as tall or scary looking as Rikku had imagined, and he didn't strike Rikku as particularly imposing. To hear Cap'n Almasy talk, this guy was his bitter rival.

He turned and Rikku gave a low whistle as she caught sight of piercing, intelligent blue eyes framed by dark lashes that any woman would envy.

"Well hello, Cap'n," she said. "Aren't _you_ a cutie?"

Cheers rose up around her as the Cap'n kissed his bride tenderly, sweetly and with a hint of nervousness Rikku wouldn't have expected from a pirate.

"Aww, how sweet!" she murmured to herself.

Then, the bride paled and slid toward the deck with a thump and Rikku saw her chance as the crowd pressed forward, all their attention focused on the unconscious girl. On light feet, she dashed toward the hatch and shimmied down the ladder and into a large common room with long tables and benches. She needed to go lower, where the prisoners would no doubt be chained in the cargo hold.

The door to her left revealed the galley, where a pair of men were busy preparing a festive meal that smelled divine. The man that seemed to be in charge was only a little taller than Rikku herself, his dark hair covered in a red bandanna, and his strong, muscular arms bared to combat the heat. Handsome, but he looked mean and dangerous. Probably not one Rikku wanted to tangle with.

She found a narrow and steep staircase at the far end of the common room. As she was about to descend, a familiar cry rang out from a narrow hall that must have led to the bunks.

"RRRAAAAAAGE!"

Fujin!

"All right!" Rikku said and bounced on her toes for a second before making her way down the hall.

She pushed doors open as she went, cautious and quiet, until she reached the door at the end.

It was locked.

No biggie. Rikku dug through her pocket for her lock pick, carefully inserted it into the keyhole and turned the tumblers until the lock clicked open.

"Yes!" she said. "Still got it."

Inside, Fujin was chained to one wall, Brother to the foot of the bed. Fujin lifted her head and snarled, but Rikku lifted a finger to her lips and shook her head.

"I'm bustin' you out," she said. "But you gotta be _quiet_."

"Riiikkuu," Brother moaned. "So rayt rindic."

"Crid ib, oui'na kuehk du kad ic lyikrd!" Rikku hissed back.

"ENGLISH."

Fujin narrowed her eye at Rikku, hands on her hips.

"Sorry. Habit," she said. "Anyway, I'm gonna spring you one at a time. Fujin, you're first."

"Dryd'c hud vyen!"

"Myteac vencd!" Rikku snapped. "Geez.  Be a gentleman, will you?"

She knelt down in front of Fujin and inspected the shackles. A simple lock on each. No problem. She picked one, then the other, and gave Fujin explicit instructions on how to get out, and where to find the row boat.

"AFFIRMATIVE," Fujin said. "SEIFER. OKAY?"

"Oh, yeah he's great," Rikku said as she moved onto Brother. "He's getting married. Must be in the air or somethin'."

"WHAT?" Fujin barked. " _WHO?_ "

"Um, tall, gorgeous blonde," Rikku said. "Katniss? Kisstis? Christy? Something like that."

"QUISTIS."

"That's it!" Rikku said. "It's kinda weird though, he's got 'er chained to his bed..."

"PERVERT."

"That's what I said, but he was all like, _mind your business_ , and who am I to judge?" Rikku said. "Anyway, you better get movin'. We gotta go one at a time or we'll attract their attention."

"AFFIRMATIVE."

Brother moaned dramatically as Fujin slipped out of the room and began to complain about his head and how hungry he was. Rikku rolled her eyes, in no mood for Brother's theatrics.

"Be quiet," she hissed. "If we get caught, I don't think they'll lock us up this time. You're lucky Leonhart didn't run you through, you dummy."

"Rikku, were is Yuna?"

"Ugh, give it a rest," Rikku said as she released his wrist from the shackle. "She's your cousin, you sicko."

"So beautiful," he sighed. "My heart... _aches_."

Rikku peered at his face, wondering if he was drunk. He didn't smell drunk, and she couldn't imagine a hostage being treated to mead or wine. They would have been lucky if they'd been fed at all. Then again, it was Brother and he could be really dramatic when he wanted to be.

She unlocked brother's second restraint and gave the room a quick search. There was a trunk of clothing, mostly gowns of various quality, from simple to fancy, several pairs of leather breeches and tunics. She dug all the way to the bottom but found nothing of value inside. The only thing under the bed was a pair of boots, and the nightstand contained only books.

Nothing worth taking, but it was worth a shot.

When Rikku was sure enough time had passed, she ushered Brother out the door and watched him stumble drunkenly down the hall. She cringed as he bumped into a wall and nearly tripped over his own feet, muttering to himself about Yuna.

If he got them caught she was going to kill him.

In the meantime, maybe she could do a little exploring, a maybe little pillaging...

* * *

Squall lifted his unconscious wife, wondering if it was his fault she'd passed out. Was he so terrible? The thought of marrying him so horrifying she'd fainted?

She didn't strike him as the sort to get the vapors. Actually, she was rather fearless.

A girl that had not only challenged him directly, but had taken shots at Almasy, a Viera _and_ a Kraken was not the kind of girl to faint without a good, hard knock on the skull. As daunting as the prospect of an unplanned marriage was, it had to be something else.

"Xu, give me a hand," he said to his acting first mate. "I might need your help."

"Really?" she asked. "Do you need instructions on what to do, Captain? Because I might not be the best person to explain that to you."

Squall's cheeks warmed, unsure from her dry tone if she was serious, or if she was giving him a hard time.

"Just come with me," he said.

He carried his unconscious wife to his quarters, ignoring the shouts and whistles from the crew. They would never let him live this down. Forevermore, the crew would tell stories of the randy Captain Leonhart, who was so eager to ravish his bride, he'd skipped the wedding feast. For any other pirate, a story like that would be unremarkable, but Captain Leonhart was known for reticence and restraint with the ladies, not for plundering the virtue of young women born to privilege. He would have preferred to keep it that way, but so be it.

Xu shut the door as Squall dumped Rinoa onto the bed without ceremony. Her eyelids fluttered open and she pressed a hand to her stomach with a pained grimace.

"What happened?"

"You fainted."

"It hurts to breathe," she complained. "I can't get enough air."

"Selphie probably laced her up too tight," Xu said.

That made sense. Selphie was over-enthusiastic about everything from butterflies to bombs, and Squall doubted she'd used restraint in helping Rinoa dress. Squall sat her up and undid the fastenings at the back of the gown, then helped her stand to lift the fabric over her head. She blushed prettily, her breaths shallow and fast from a combination of nerves and too much pressure on her lungs.

"Xu?" he said. "You can go, I'll handle it. We'll be out shortly."

"It might be wise to stay here for a while," Xu said. "Or else the crew will think you're..."

Squall held up a hand and gritted his teeth. They would assume the worst and give him grief for a speedy performance. Xu was right, but it looked as though Rinoa would rather avoid being alone with him altogether.

"Have Zell bring us some food and mead," Squall said. "We'll rejoin you in a while."

"Aye," Xu said.

In silence, Squall loosened the laces of the corset until his new wife could breathe again and left it cinched loosely around her middle, tied it and turned his back on her. He stripped his coat off and tossed it over the back of the nearest chair, wondering what they were supposed to say to one another.

He wouldn't force her to consummate the marriage, but now they had a couple of hours to kill before they could show their faces on deck. They couldn't very well stare at one another until it was acceptable to join the party.

A loud bang on the door interrupted Squall's musings.  Zell stood on the other side with a tray laden with an assortment of meats and fruits and bread, and a large jug of mead to wash it down. The meal wasn't unwelcome in Squall's eyes, and at least would kill some of the time required to see the ruse through.

"Sit," Squall said as Zell left them. He poured the mead into two tumblers and offered her one as he took his place at the table. "We'll eat and you can tell me how you know Almasy."

They ate in silence, Rinoa picking at her meal as Squall observed her. Yesterday, she'd looked him square in the eye, unflinching as she dismantled his psyche. The girl at his table now was meek and scared, as if she expected him to turn into a beast and tear her limb from limb.

"Rinoa."

"Yes?"

"Almasy?"

She pushed her plate away and took a long swallow of mead, unaware of how her shift had fallen down one pale shoulder to reveal collarbone and the barest suggestion of breast. It was too appealing to look at and Squall returned his attention to the refilling of glasses and the perfect slices of roast meat before them.

"He presented himself to my father as the son of a Duke," Rinoa said. "I can't tell you what kind of financial arrangements were made between them, only that when Seifer disappeared, my father was broke and my reputation was ruined."

"Rumors or..."

She stabbed at a slice of beef on her plate, the tines of her fork clicking loudly against the porcelain, and she stared at it for a second before she dropped the fork altogether.

"How much do you know about the rules of Deling City society?" Rinoa asked.

"Enough to know they're unnecessarily strict," he said.

"For women, especially," Rinoa said. She helped herself to more mead and picked at the fruit on her plate. "Just before Seifer took off with my father's money, he accompanied me to the botanical gardens in Deling City. He was charming, funny. I thought maybe I'd gotten lucky, that a young man from a good family was interested in marriage, in spite of my father's financial troubles. I liked him. A lot. I thought he liked me, too."

Squall wasn't surprised. Seifer could turn the charm on and lay it on as thick as South Centran fog, especially around pretty young women. He would try extra hard if he believed daddy had deep pockets he could mine to fund his ill-advised venture into piracy.

"The engagement wasn't official," Rinoa said. "I probably shouldn't have agreed to go with him, but I thought my father would announce it any day, so I agreed. And it was nice, for a while. He told me about his home in Dollet, his family, but little did I know, it was all a lie."

The more Squall heard about the way things were done on land, the less he liked the idea of settling down in some port city as Cid and Edea had done. The rules were foreign and confusing, and mostly unappealing to him. Whatever social graces applied there were inexplicably odd, the idea of being seen in public with someone of the opposite sex was either a sign of impending marriage or salacious behavior seemed a strange and ridiculous custom.

"Anyway, we were admiring the orchids and he..." she wiped a hand over her face, "he kissed me, in front of the Ladies Historic Preservation Society. Everyone saw it. I was so surprised, I didn't know how to react. He just laughed and smiled like it wasn't a problem, so I thought it wasn't."

Squall didn't grasp why that was such a big deal. It was just a kiss. It wasn't as though they'd been caught naked in an alleyway.

"It wouldn't have mattered so much if he'd actually married me," Rinoa said. "But a thing like that, in public, with a man who proved to be a swindler, plus all the rumors that followed, some of which were not even close to true... After that, the only man my father could interest was Don Corneo, and I just... couldn't."

Squall nearly choked on his mead. He set his glass aside, filled with unexpected empathy for her. If he were in her shoes, he would have run too.

"Corneo's a..."

"Dilettante," she said. "I know what he is, what he does. He's a sleaze who bought his way into high society by exploiting women."

He was worse than that, but Squall didn't comment or add his two cents. She seemed well enough informed about the man on her own.

"His last wife met with an unfortunate accident, so they say. They were only married a few months before..."

"He killed her," Squall finished. "I heard about it."

Rinoa nodded and sipped her mead, a little more relaxed than before, in spite of the subject matter.

"The official story is that she fell down a flight of stairs," Rinoa said. "But, if she did, then she fell a couple times and strangled herself on the way down."

"He's lower than a bilge rat," Squall said. "He's a coward, but I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemy."

"Might I ask what's lower than a bilge rat?" she wondered. "For future reference?"

Squall sipped his mead and considered her question for a moment before he offered a rare smile.

"I want to hear your worst," she challenged. "Teach me some pirate insults."

"Barnacle-loving, bilge drinkin' swabbie," he said.

She put her hand over her mouth to hide her grin, but laughter broke through.

"That's the best you've got?" she cried.

"Talking's not my forte," he said. "As you've already ascertained. I prefer to save the insults and solve my problems with steel."

"What's a swabbie?" she asked.

"The guy that cleans the deck because he's not good for anything else."

"Should you really be insulting your crew?" she asked. "I'd go for something lower than that."

"Think you can do better?"

"Maybe," she said as she refilled his glass and then hers. "How about... yellow bellied spitoon licker?"

It sounded like something his father might have come up with, Laguna being a sage of random strings of words that sometimes made sense and came out like genuine insults.

"Aye, that's a decent one," he said. "Try likening one's breath to a dead whale, or suggest they perform indecent acts on a parrot."

He must be drunk to be having this conversation. Definitely drunk to be enjoying it. Maybe it was inappropriate to suggest a lady use that kind of language, but Rinoa had already proved herself less a lady than she seemed.

It struck Squall as he watched her, she was his _wife_. He was _married_. Holy Hyne, what was he going to do now?

"Pirates don't really have pet parrots, do they?" she asked.

"Any pirate that keeps a parrot is a fool with more ego than sense."

"Too bad," she said. "I think you'd look dashing with a feathery sidekick."

"No."

Rinoa sobered and looked him over, her eyes fixed on the chain around his neck for a minute, then swept back up to his face before they dropped to the ring on her finger. She twisted the band around a few times as Squall unconsciously dragged a finger over his own under the table.

"So, what now?"

"Hell if I know," he said. "If we go out now, they'll just poke fun."

"Should we just... get it out of the way?"

Squall tensed but took a slow, measured sip of his mead as he eyed her across the table. She looked like she'd rather be dragged behind the ship, and Squall was too inexperienced to know how to ease her fears.

"Get it out of the way..." he echoed. "Makes it sound like a chore."

"Isn't it?" she asked in a small voice. "I mean, the longer we wait, the more I'm going to dread it, so maybe it's better -"

Squall held up a hand and shook his head. He had no desire to take it, even if he had the right as a husband by law. There was no denying his physical attraction to her, but that didn't mean forcing the union was the correct course. He wanted her to want him in return, not to lay down because she was supposed to. After all, she'd run away from home because she didn't want to follow the rules. Allowing her to give in because she was expected to was at odds with who she proved herself to be.

"No," he said.

Her mouth formed a small O of surprise. "What?"

"I'll not have you that way."

"What way?"

"Resigned," he said. "Grudging. _Obligated_."

She stared at him for almost a minute and toyed with the chain around her neck.

"You're a very strange man," she finally said.

Squall supposed he was. Any other man would probably do as he pleased with her, to the point of unkindness. Corneo would have taken what he wanted, without hesitation. And when he grew bored, he would find some way to dispose of her, whether by banishing her to one of his brothels or designing an accidental end.

She came from a world where a kiss in public was a scandal for an unmarried woman, where an unchaperoned outing was considered a betrothal, and where both could ruin a spotless reputation. It was obvious from her reaction, she hadn't expected him to be any different from Corneo or Almasy in the end, and that angered him.

"Sea marriages are different than the ones you're accustomed to," he said. "We don't marry for land or treaties. Nor are our women property."

"No? Then what do you marry for?"

"Most marry for love," he said. "Or at least lust."

She chewed her lip and continued to play with her necklace.

"But you married me out of obligation."

"More or less," he admitted.

Anger flashed in her eyes before she nodded to herself and reached for her cup. She stared into it for a second, took a swallow and met his gaze.

"It could be worse, I suppose," she said. "Thank you for being considerate."

"I owed you."

"Even though I brained you with a skillet?"

She gave him a small smile full of more warmth than he deserved. He nodded, sipped his mead and refilled their cups. Outside, music began to play, some sea-shanty with bawdy lyrics sung loud and off-key.

"So, what now?" she repeated.

"I'll leave it up to you," he said. "As my wife, you'll be an official member of the crew and you'll be given responsibilities that suit your skills. If after a year, we haven't consummated the marriage, we have the right to dissolve the union. You'll be paid for your service as part of the crew and we part ways, assuming you haven't caused me any major bodily harm."

"So you don't expect me to... At all?"

"Not if you don't want to," he said. "You're not mine to do with as I please. If it happens, it will be because you want it to."

His cheeks warmed and he looked away, embarrassed by the uncomfortable subject matter, though it needed to be said. Still, that hungry beast lifted its head and snarled as she stood, came to his side of the table and slipped into his lap. He tensed as she invaded his space, the weight of her against his thighs not unpleasant, but unexpected.

"Well, who would have thought," she said. "A shy, gentleman pirate. And they call your lot savages."

"I might be alone in my opinions," he admitted, his voice gone hoarse with desire. "But, I promise I won't lay a hand on you if you don't want me to."

"Okay," she said. "And I promise to try my best not to cause you major bodily harm. Though, I can't promise there won't be accidental minor harm done, given the givens."

"Fair enough."

* * *

Zell returned to the galley to oversee the clean-up, and munched on strips of meat from his plate as he barked orders at Cinna and Blank. A cook always ate last, no matter how hungry he was. Now that everyone had been served, he could stuff his face, have a cup of mead and kick back until he had to get back up and do it all over again.

While he still couldn't quite believe the events of the day, he was sort of happy for the two of them, even if the match made no sense. Now Rinoa wouldn't have to go home, and Squall... well, maybe he'd lighten up a little. Hyne knew, the man's nerves were stretched thin enough to snap and maybe Rinoa was just the thing to help him relax a little.

Oh, who was Zell kidding? The Cap'n would be wound tight, no matter what, especially since Rinoa had been the cause of too many unfortunate situations since her arrival.

Then again, Zell hadn't missed the way Squall had looked at her during the ceremony. And maybe, some of that was Zell's doing. If he hadn't opened his mouth earlier with the bounty hunters, the wedding probably wouldn't have happened.

"Just call me cupid," he muttered to himself as he stuffed a boiled potato into his mouth.

Outside the Galley, there was a scrape and a thump, and it occurred to Zell, Fujin hadn't screamed in hours.

"Hey, Blank," he called as he surveyed the space beyond the doorway with interest, "make me up a couple plates of leftovers. Just the scraps. Gotta to feed the prisoners."

There was nothing out of order that Zell could see, and he decided it was probably just noise from the party above and helped himself to another strip of beef.

"Two plates o' swill," Blank said. "Hope they don't mind the bite marks..."

"They're lucky Cap decided they could eat at all," Zell said absently as the thump and scrape came again. "Y'all hear that?"

"Probably just Laguna," Cinna said. "Saw him in a corner a little while ago, sobbing like a baby."

"Seems pretty happy the Cap'n got hitched, if you ask me," Blank said.

"Mmm," Zell agreed. He'd witnessed Laguna's tears of joy twice now. Sort of pathetic, but also a little sweet. "I'll be back. And don't be helpin' yerselves to extras. We gotta make what we've got last till we reach the Cape, so unless you wanna dine on rats for a week, no double-dipping."

He left them with a stern glare and headed for Quistis' quarters, where the prisoners were being housed. As he crossed the dining area, the scrape was louder, followed by a metallic tinkling, a clang and a muttered, girlish curse.

"Hello?" he called.

A single gold coin rolled across the floor and he stopped it with his boot.

He set the plates aside and proceeded cautiously. On his left, the sound of coins hitting the floor drew his attention. Two rolled in opposite directions from behind a stack of crates on the far side of the room. Zell clenched his fists and stalked over to them, ready for a fight, but what he saw when he peered behind the crates was not what he expected.

A petite, young blonde woman with her braided hair tied in a scarf sat crouched against the wall, attempting to stuff her pockets with the fallen loot scattered around her.

"What do you think yer doin'?" Zell demanded.

She looked up at him and jumped to her feet. Dazzling but weird green eyes peered back at him and went wide.

"Oh, poopie..." she muttered. "Busted."

"Yeah! Busted!" Zell echoed stupidly. "Empty your pockets."

"Gotta catch me first," she said and darted away from him.

Zell turned and sprinted after her, took a swipe and missed the back of her dress by a mile. Hyne, she was fast!

Xu came down the ladder, just as the girl hooked her foot over the bottom rung.

"Thief!" Zell shouted. "Don't let her get by you!"

Xu jumped the rest of the way, using gravity to tackle the girl to the ground. They both hit the floor with a thud and gold coins spilled from the girl's pouch, along with a handful of jewels.

"Owww," the girl whined. "Double disasteriffic..."

"Who are you?" Xu demanded as she pinned the girl to the floor.

"Rikku."

"Well, Rikku, you've just earned yourself a short drop and a quick stop, you thieving little scamp," Xu promised, her voice cold and deadly. "Zell, hold her while I empty her pockets."

Zell restrained her, all too aware of how small she seemed, but she didn't resist while Xu frisked her and emptied about a hundred gold coins from various pockets and pouches hidden in her skirt. Rikku just shrugged when Xu demanded an explanation.

"You should really put a better lock on your treasury door," Rikku said. "A kid with a hair pin could bust in, no problem."

"So, you were just teaching us a lesson?" Xu asked flatly.

"Sure, if you wanna call it that," Rikku said. "Um, what are you going to do to me?"

"For now, you get to join our other esteemed prisoners," Xu said. "The Captain will decide your fate tomorrow. Zell, Quistis' quarters."

"Aye," he said and guided the girl forward and down the hall.

Xu opened the door, froze, and let out an inhuman screech as she peered inside.

"WHERE THE _HELL_ ARE THE PRISONERS?!"

"Um, about that..." Rikku said.

* * *

"So, this is like, a blessed occasion, ya know?" Raijin said. "Two souls joined together in holy matrimony, yo. It's like, poetry and stuff."

"Raijin, get on with it," Seifer snapped. "Get to the important part."

Quistis, draped in yards of shimmery gold fabric, stared back at him, posture stiff and hands clenched around a makeshift bouquet of wildflowers Raijin had picked from the weeds along the harbor for the occasion. The corset cut into her ribs and the fabric of the dress scratched at the back of her neck. She'd dressed hastily and any precautions she might have taken to prevent her discomfort were put aside in favor of Seifer's urgent insistence on going through with this farce.

And a farce it was, especially as far as Quistis was concerned. She had a plan, one Seifer would not enjoy so much in the end, but one way or another, Quistis would not settle for being a captive. She played along, her resignation exaggerated and perhaps transparent, but Seifer didn't seem to notice. His blue-green eyes glittered with anticipation as he watched her, eager for what came next.

Quistis wouldn't lie and say she wasn't looking forward to that part herself. If there was one thing that had kept her coming back to him, it was the physical aspect of their otherwise troubled relationship. From the very beginning, even when at odds, that element was the fuel that kept the fire burning when Quistis would have otherwise cast him aside. He knew exactly how to please her, and wasn't shy about doing it.

But, payback was due, and she looked forward to that part, too.

"So, like, do you take this Captain to be your husband, ya know?" Raijin asked.

"I do," Quistis said without hesitation. She looked Seifer in the eye as she said it and was rewarded with his most irresistible smile. "Yes, I do."

"And Captain, do you take the, ya know, the other Captain to be your wife?"

"You bet," he said, his grin broadening into a leer.

"You have to say _I do_ , ya know?"

Seifer cast a narrow-eyed glare at Raijin, then rolled his eyes.

"Fine. _I do_."

"Then kiss her, ya know?"

Seifer's gaze returned to Quistis and he smiled, but his eyes softened as he stepped forward and took her chin in his palm. One arm swept around her waist and he dragged her to him, his lips claiming hers with a hot, passionate kiss that stole her breath and brought her blood to a slow boil.

"I know pronounce you Captain and, ya know, Captain," Raijin said. "May the sea gods bless this union and may you prosper on the tides of plunder, ya know?"

Seifer swept Quistis up into his arms and his lips found hers again as he carried her to his quarters, the sound of the crew's cheers rising up behind them. It was just like Seifer to want to get on with it, rather than let the anticipation build over dinner and drinks and dancing. He was not into delayed gratification, nor had Quistis expected him to be.

And that was fine with Quistis. The sooner they were alone, the sooner she could claim her prize.

As soon as the door was closed and locked behind them, Seifer's hands roamed over her body, his mouth finding all the sensitive places along her neck and Quistis shivered in anticipation of what came next. He tugged impatiently at the laces at the back of her gown, a low growl in his throat when they didn't come undone fast enough.

Quistis did nothing to help him remove the gown, instead played passive to further drive him out of control. She'd judged his state of mind correctly, and as he pulled at the strings too hard, the gown ripped and came away from her shoulders with a sharp scrape against her skin. As he tore the rest of it away and cast it aside, his mouth found hers again and pushed her back toward the dresser, heedless of where he was going. She bumped into it and he lifted her up, hands fumbling with the skirt of her petticoats and shifts until his fingers found bare skin.

He pulled back and flashed her a broad grin before he went to his knees and began to kiss his way up the inside of her thigh. Quistis leaned back as he hitched a leg over his shoulder, his head now hidden by layers of skirt as he worked his way up. She closed her eyes and her head tipped back as his tongue slid over her, tasting the folds of flesh with a maddeningly delicate stroke. She cried out as he teased her, swirling his tongue around that small center of pleasure, just the way she liked it.

A part of her wanted to stay focused on her plan, but as the heat built in her veins, she gave in to the sensation and his expert ministrations, delighted by his eagerness to please her. He was no longer teasing, the sweep of his tongue against her steady and firm, and he laughed in appreciation at the sound of her gasps as he brought her ever closer to the brink.

She arched up to his touch, her body craving more pressure, and when he gave it to her, she moaned as the first waves of climax radiated through her limbs. Her fingers dug into his free shoulder, nails piercing through fabric to his skin as she came with a loud cry, her hips rolling involuntarily against him as he finished her off.

With Quistis spent and panting, he kissed his way back to her knees and untangled himself from her skirts. Eyes alight with smug satisfaction, he stood and grabbed the front of her corset and kissed her hard, his mouth demanding all her attention.

"I want this off," he growled against her lips. "Right now."

Quistis was still floating on the remnants of bliss, dazed and placid as he reached around and tugged at the corset laces with even more urgency than before. This time, his patience ran out and he withdrew a dagger from his boot, lifted her away from the dresser and turned her around to slice through the laces. Quistis felt each one pop free, a vibration in her ribs that was not altogether unpleasant, but jarring as her body was freed from the contraption.

Seifer tore it away, along with the shift beneath it, his mouth and hands sliding over her with lusty abandon. Quistis needed to focus, but that proved difficult as one hand swept upward to clasp her breast and his fingers brushed against her nipple. Cool air feathered over her legs as he lifted her skirts up to her hips and she closed her eyes as he pressed himself against her.

This was not where she wanted him, but she couldn't deny how badly she ached for penetration. It had been too long, and there would be time later – eventually, she would get her chance, once she got what she needed from him, and perhaps it was better to wait until he was docile and she was not half-mad with lust.

His hands glided down her arms to grasp her wrists and guided her palms to the top of the dresser, his mouth nipping at her neck and earlobe and his breath a tickle against her skin. Quistis moaned in anticipation when his fingertips glided over the indentations left by the corset, to her hips. His lips returned to her shoulders, her back, and he murmured something she couldn't quite make out.

There was a rustle of fabric as he dropped his pants to his ankles and freed his cock to slick himself against her. It was a tease, but also telling. Seifer was far more in control than she was and that only made her control slip further. She wanted him blinded by lust, not to be the one so full of desire she couldn't think straight.

She cried out as he grasped a handful of her hair and turned her head to the side to kiss her deeply and almost tenderly. It didn't line up with the way his free hand pawed at her, or the way he tugged at her hair, but the dueling sensations were too delicious to sort out.

Quistis was almost at the point of begging when he drove himself inside her with a hard, rough stroke. His lips muffled her cries as he began to thrust into her, slowly at first and then with more urgency as his hands grasped her hips and pulled her against him to go deeper and harder. It felt incredible, and Quistis didn't even try to stifle her cries as the pleasure mounted again, a steady heat that there was no point in denying.

In her ear, Seifer's soft grunts were a sign he was too close and Quistis pushed away from the dresser, disengaging him from her as he gave a loud, inarticulate growl of protest. She took him by the shoulders and pushed him back toward the bed, stopping only to peel his pants away from his ankles. She shoved him down on the mattress, straddled him and leaned down to kiss his lips as she took him inside her.

His moan was exactly what she wanted to hear and his eyes fluttered closed as she rode him at her own pace, back in control of herself and of the situation. She took advantage of his distraction and with one quick motion, seized the cuff he'd restrained her with earlier and locked it firmly around his wrist.

"-what?" he asked stupidly. "Whaddarya doin', Quis?"

Before he could sit up, Quistis had his other wrist bound too. She smiled triumphantly down at him as she snapped the lock in place.

"What the hell?!"

"I can play this game too," she said as she climbed off of him and slid to the edge of the bed. "Not so much fun when you're on the other side, is it?"

"Unlock me."

"Maybe later," she said. She got to her feet and picked his pants up off the floor.

"I'm serious, Trepe. _Unlock. Me_."

She unclipped the keys to Griever's treasure and held them up to the light to admire them. Cumbersome things, really, but if the treasure was real, the wielder of the keys held all the power. On the bed, Seifer sat up and tugged against the chains, still absurdly aroused but his face red with anger.

"I've been thinking," she said to the keys. "There's no sense in having two Captains."

Seifer grew still, his face gone blank and pale as understanding dawned on him, and Quistis smiled her most benevolent smile.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Oh, but I would," she said.

Seifer sputtered, thrashed and made a sound that wasn't so different than that of an enraged Torama and tried to get to his feet.

"You dirty, double-crossing, treacherous little doxie!" he shouted.

"That's not a very nice thing to call your wife," she said as she collected her breeches and tunic. "Or your new Captain. Perhaps I should make an example of you."

"This isn't funny, Quistis! Unlock me!"

Quistis dressed quickly, stuffed her feet back into her boots and repinned her hair before she turned back to Seifer with a smile.

"I think I'll change the ship's name," she said as she clipped the keys to her belt. " _The Queen_ , perhaps."

"The crew won't follow you."

"They'll follow whoever is in charge, especially if they're well treated," she said. "Given a little incentive. Something you seem to have forgotten."

"You mutinous crack!"

Quistis ignored the insult, adjusted her jacket and left him there on the bed, half naked and screaming as she stepped out onto the deck and closed the door behind her. The crew looked up in curiosity as she strode across it to the small gathering around a barrel of mead.

"Trouble in paradise?" a leather clad woman with amber eyes deadpanned. "Lover's quarrel?"

"Almasy has been relieved of his duties," Quistis said. "I'm the Captain now, and this is _my_ ship."

* * *

Notes:

I used the English to Al Bhed translator at stefangagne dot com for Rikku and Brother's conversation in the first section. Just for fun.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I let this one go for over a year without updating. I'm also sorry it's so short, but because a few people have asked for updates recently, I decided a short chapter would be better than nothing at all. Again, I don't really have a plot or a solid idea of where this is going, but I had a LOT of fun writing the second scene (even though I haven't finished playing the game in which these characters appear). I hope my characterization is okay and not way, way off, and they will factor into the story in a fun way (I hope).
> 
> Anyway, thanks for your patience, guys. I won't make you wait another year for the next.

 

* * *

10

* * *

Quistis gazed upon her new crew and sized them up. They peered back with expressions ranging from suspicious to bored to curious. She noted that there were more women than men, and she assumed Seifer chose them for aesthetic reasons rather than their skill at sailing. Not a one of them looked like they lived their lives by the tides.

"Anyone who does not wish to sail with me, you're free to go," she said. "Everyone else, there's work to be done."

No one left.

"The first order of business is to take down that flag," she said and pointed to Seifer's signature firecross on a field of white. She pointed to the kid with the tail. "I trust you can handle it?"

"Anything for a pretty lady," he said and winked.

"Watch yourself," Quistis said. "I'm not swayed by flattery."

The next order of business was to find actual crew that knew how to sail. Quistis needed experienced sailors who could mentor the rest and who knew the sea as well as she did.

She had no doubt she could scout the harbor and come away with a dozen or more, but leaving the ship she'd so recently appropriated was unwise. She doubted any of them besides Raijin were loyal to Seifer, but she did not know enough about them just yet to feel free to leave.

There was one man she knew she could trust to join her and recruit some able bodied sailors. A hardened, wisened man with years upon years of hands-on knowledge and sound mechanical skills to boot.

She looked over the crew and fixed upon a pair of young women, one with a demeanor and posture that reminded her of Squall, and the other an cute, earnest brunette with eyes of different colors.

"You two," Quistis said, "I need you to go to a bar named the 7th Heaven and ask for Cid Highwind. Tell him Captain Trepe is calling in that favor."

"Yes, ma'am," the earnest one said. "Should we pick up anything else while we're out?"

"Just find Cid," Quistis said.

From the Captain's quarters came a long, enraged howl and a series of curses so profane, it would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. Quistis just smiled.

How sweet her revenge.

* * *

Prompto gave a dramatic groan as Noctis cast his line into the harbor for the billionth time. He was eager to go explore the port, but Noctis found a prime fishing spot around sunset and claimed night fishing was the best time to catch rare fish. Prompto didn't know or care if this was true or not.

Fishing was fun and all, but his attention span was too limited to cast more than once or twice before he got bored. It was especially boring now that Iggy and Gladio took off in search of some rare spice and to replenish their stock of curatives.

From where they sat, Prompto could see a massive ship all lit up in the harbor. A party was in full swing.

"Looks like they're having a good time," he commented. "We should check it out."

"That's a pirate ship," Noctis said. "Not going anywhere near it."

"Uggghhhhh," Prompto said and flung himself back into the sand. "How can you stand sitting still so long?"

"I suffer from an extreme case of ennui," Noctis said. "If I move too much, I'll die."

Prompto sat up and elbowed him in the ribs. "That's not funny."

"Yeah, yeah," Noctis said and elbowed him back.

"Seriously, let's go do something."

"Nope. Gonna fish."

Prompto sighed as Noctis cast his line again, sure that he would die of boredom before the night was through. He took out his camera and cycled through his collection of pictures from their journey so far. Noctis on the beach. Noctis with a fish. Noctis doing that awesome warp thing. Noctis on a chocobo.

He snapped another, just for fun. Noctis scowled and Prompto snapped that one too.

"You think I should ask Cindy out?" Prompto wondered. "Think she'd say yes?"

"Doubt it," Noctis said.

"Yeah, probably not," Prompto said with a sigh. "Maybe if I got a really cool airship she'd give me the time of day."

"Good plan," Noctis said and slowly reeled in his line. "Every time you accidentally ram it into a cliff, you can stand back and watch her get all excited about fixing it."

"Yeah. It'll be awesome. It's so sexy when she talks about engine parts... and that grease on the tip of her nose," he sighed. "So cute."

"You're hopeless."

"I know," he said. "Love sucks."

He stretched out on his back and looked at the stars through the viewfinder of his camera. Too bad he didn't have a low light filter. The view was amazing.

"Frana ec Yuna?"

Prompto sat up as a drunken man lumbered toward them. He was covered in tattoos, wild-eyed as he stumbled along the waterline.

"Hey, Noct?" Prompto said. "Reel in your line. I don't think that guy's gonna go around us."

Noctis only grunted and waited for a nibble at his bait.

"So raynd, ed pinhc! Yoooooonnaaaa!"

"Noct!"

"I see him," Noctis said.

The man came closer and closer, but Noctis ignored him.

"Ryja oui caah Yuna?" the man asked.

"I don't know what you're saying to me right now," Prompto said. To Noctis, "What language is that?"

"Sounds like Al Bhed," Noctis said.

"What's he saying?"

"Don't know. Don't speak Al Bhed."

Noctis' line jerked and he shot to his feet and began to struggle with his catch. The drunken Al Bhed stumbled closer and Prompto backed up.

"Uhh, maybe you should go sleep it off, buddy," he suggested. "You'll feel better in the morning."

"Love," the man said in a heavily accented common tongue. "It is... a bad smell."

"Yeah, you got that right," Prompto agreed. "It stinks."

"Yes. It _stinks_ ," the man said. "My heart... for Yuna. So beautiful."

The man must have gotten his heart broken and tried to cure it with too much alcohol in one of the port pubs. Prompto could sympathize. He would do the same, if alcohol was a friend of his, but it wasn't.

"I hear you buddy," Prompto said.

Noctis snorted and threw his fishing pole into to sand. It disappeared with a blue shimmer that made the sand sparkle.

"Lost it," he said and turned to Prompto and the drunk. "I think it's bed time."

"It's too early," Prompto said. "We haven't even checked out the port yet! And I'm hungry."

"Fine," Noctis said. "Lead the way."

"We go find Yuna?"

"You can do whatever you want," Noctis said.

The man followed them halfway up the beach, then turned around and drifted back toward the surf, muttering under his breath at the sea.

All along the docks, vendors hocked their wares and Prompto bounced from one to the other, excited about all the different things on display. Jewelry, pots made of clay, herbs and spices, vegetables, fresh caught fish and oysters, colorful clothing, weapons of all kinds, a variety of food and drinks. It was like an outpost, but better.

They stopped to buy kabobs for dinner at a booth near the end of the market. Nearby, a pair of girls surveyed the crowd. Prompto stopped and stared.

The tall one looked scary and dangerous, but she was smokin' hot. The other, small and pretty, but what really caught his eye were the pair of guns in holsters that lay against her thighs.

"Wow!" he cried and nudged Noctis. "Check it out."

"Yeah, I see 'em," he said as he picked a piece of green pepper off his kabob and handed it to Prompto.

"Those are custom," Prompto said. "I wonder what caliber they are..."

"Go ask."

Prompto hopped from one foot to the other, dying to know the answer, but also nervous and suddenly tongue tied because that's what happened when he was within a hundred feet of a pretty girl.

They approached him before he could make up his mind.

"Excuse me," the smaller girl asked, "We're looking for a bar called the 7th Heaven."

"Sorry," Noctis said. "Tourists."

Prompto scratched his head and gave a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, we're not really from around here," he said. "But, uh, hey, those are really nice... guns... and..."

It was then Prompto noticed the girl had one blue eye, one green, and he instantly fell in love.

"Eyes," he blabbered. "You have two. I mean... oh, boy."

"Don't mind him," Noctis said. "He's..."

"Adorable," the tall scary girl said flatly.

Noctis lifted an eyebrow, sized her up, then returned his attention to his kabob.

"We're looking for a man named Cid," the love of Prompto's life said. "I was hoping maybe you'd heard of him?"

"We know a Cid!" he shouted and nudged Noctis' arm. "Right Noct?"

"Mmm."

"You do?" the girl said. "Can you tell us where to find him?"

"Well, he's all the way back at the Hammerhead," Prompto said. "It's like, way far away from here."

"Hammerhead?" the scary one asked. "Sounds like a bar."

The girls exchanged looks.

"Well, if you see him, let him know Quistis is looking for him. It's important."

"Sure, yeah, will do!" he cried, a little too loudly. "Any time!"

As they walked away, Prompto sighed.

"Why are there _so_ many beautiful girls in the world, and why must I be destined to fall in love with all of them?" he lamented. "So unfair."

"Keep at it buddy," Noctis said. "Just like fishing. Gotta be patient."

Prompto groaned. "Easy for you to say."

Noctis patted him on the shoulder and continued on through the crowd toward the hotel. People lined the streets and there was a lot of activity, considering how late it was.

They met Ignis and Gladio halfway there.

"We have some bad news," Iggy said. "Ardyn has stolen the flux capacitor from the Regalia."

"So let's get it back," Noctis said.

"I hate that guy," Prompto muttered.

"Indeed," Iggy said. "However, he's fled on an airship. With the Regalia grounded, we'd be hard pressed to catch up."

"So what do we do?" Noctis asked and folded his arms over his chest.

"Hitch a ride on one of those," Gladio said and pointed to the ships moored in the harbor. "The Lionheart's leaving in the morning."

"We're never going back to Insomnia, are we?" Prompto whined. "Not that it isn't fun hanging out with you guys..."

"Word is, Cindy is in Western Centra," Iggy said. "Perhaps she can build us a new one."

"We're gonna go see Cindy? Count me in!" Prompto said.

"But first, we need to speak with a ship captain and secure passage."

"How much is that gonna cost?" Noctis asked.

"Never you mind," Iggy said. "We'll sort it out."

"So...basically, our only option is that big ole pirate ship over there?" Prompto asked.

"Not going near it," Noctis said.

"Why not?" Prompto asked. "Pirates are awesome!"

"I get sea sick."

"You don't have a choice if you want to make it back to Insomnia in time for your wedding," Gladio said.

Noctis sighed and surveyed the port. "Pirate ship it is, then."

"Well blow me down," Prompto said and elbowed Noctis. "Arrrggh, matey!"

"Stop."

"You're no fun," Prompto said, then began to sing. "Ohhhh, what do you do with a virgin, sailor, what do you do with a virgin sailor, what do you do -"

"You're singing about yourself, right?" Gladio asked.

"Yep," Prompto sighed. "Forever alone."

"Pathetic."

"I really am," Prompto agreed. "So, let's get a move on, mateys! Our ocean chariot awaits. Hey, think there will be girls on the ship? I hear pirate babes are pretty hot..."

"Focus, Prompto," Iggy said.

"Right," he said. "Ohhhhhhhh, what do you do..."


End file.
